


Jamie's Angels in: Party Tricks

by JohnAmendAll



Series: Jamie's Angels [4]
Category: Doctor Who (1963)
Genre: This Time Round
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-21
Updated: 2011-07-12
Packaged: 2017-10-20 15:19:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 20,791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/214154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JohnAmendAll/pseuds/JohnAmendAll
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jamie's Angels attend the party of the millennium, and get caught up in an attempted kidnapping.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

When Rose walked through the door of the Round, she found the place pretty much empty. Apart from the Eleventh Doctor and Rory, who were engaged in lugging a bulky, dust-covered machine up the steps from the cellar, the only person present was Jamie. It took her a moment to recognise him, dressed as he was in a tuxedo, with trousers rather than his usual kilt.

"Going somewhere nice?" she asked him.

Jamie nodded. "It's a fancy dress party."

"That'd explain it. Why you're dressed as James Bond, I mean." She straightened his bow tie. "You want to be careful with that. Whenever my fella wears one of those something dreadful happens."

The Eleventh Doctor dropped his end of the machine he was dragging, and looked up. "Bow ties are cool," he said firmly.

"Actually, I'm sort of with Rose on that one," Rory said, setting his end of the machine down rather more gently. "You wear a bow tie all the time, and... wherever you go, things get all disastrous-y."

"So who else is going to this party of yours?" Rose asked.

"Oh, all the lassies. They're just changing now. Look, here's Isobel."

"Now there's a familiar sight," Rory said, as Isobel descended the Round's staircase. She was wearing a 1970s police uniform— or rather, a 1970s equivalent of Amy's favourite costume, for it certainly wasn't aiming at realism.

"Hi, everyone," she said. She gave Jamie an appreciative glance. "You certainly scrub up nicely."

"Where are you all going?" Rose asked, as a blushing Jamie mumbled his thanks.

"Some space cruiser in the year 2537," Isobel said. She fished a piece of paper out of her pocket. "On board the _Orchid Spray_. Apparently it's the party of the millennium. The Doctor got us tickets."

"All right for some, eh?"

Isobel shrugged. "I've lost count of how many times something I've been to was supposed to be the party of the century. It usually means cheap fizz in a dingy basement, and some poser trying to sell you horrible artworks." She smiled, self-deprecatingly. "And once or twice, that poser was me."

Gia chose that moment to join the group.

"Wow," Rose said, looking at her costume. "Red Riding Hood?"

"That's right. What do you think?"

"I think you're gonna be beating off big bad wolves with a stick."

"You've got legs," Rory added, sounding a little stunned. "And arms. And... other bits."

"Actually, just stand next to Jamie a moment," Isobel said. She held up her fingers, as if framing a photograph. "You'd make quite a good Bond girl, dressed like that."

"Except James Bond's supposed to be taller than the girl," Rose pointed out.

"Well, that's hardly Gia's fault, is it?" Isobel glanced at her watch. "And talking of short people, where are the other girls?"

"They're a bit behind time," Gia said. "They had some trouble finding costumes that fitted."

*

"Where's Victoria?" Samantha asked.

"Martha said she'd got a costume she could borrow. They're about the same size."

"Yeah, but they're nothing like the same _shape_. Anyway, what did you manage to get for us?"

"They only had one costume in our size. I thought you could wear it, and I could improvise something." Zoë unzipped the plastic bag, pulled the costume out, and held it up. "Here it is. There's a wig that goes with it."

Samantha grimaced at the costume. "No way I'm wearing that."

"Well, I suppose it would fit me. But then what would you go as?"

"Can't we swap? I mean, you said just now you could get your hands on another outfit. Why I couldn't I wear that?"

Zoë looked dubious. "I suppose you could."

"Come on, then. Where is it?"

"Could you turn your back, please?" Zoë waited until Samantha had turned away, then took a deep breath.

"Wheel in Space Power, make up!" she chanted, pronouncing the words as if she didn't know what they meant.

*

"What do you think?" Victoria asked timidly.

"Jadzia Dax to the life," Rory said. "Even down to the spots. How long did it take to paint all those?"

"Long enough." Victoria cautiously touched the leopard-like pattern on the side of her face. "But Martha said it was important for the full effect."

Rose grinned. "She's such a Trekkie. So who's left?"

"Just Sam and Zoë," Gia said.

"Don't tell me. Sam's gonna be Queen Victoria."

Isobel shook her head. "Not a chance. She's had enough of Queen Victoria jokes by now." She attempted to imitate Samantha's Liverpool accent. "'We are norra mused.'"

"No," Rory said thoughtfully. "No, I can see that."

"Zoë's just coming," Samantha said, as she joined the party. "She's still changing."

Isobel looked her up and down, noting the sailor fuku, tiara, gloves and high-heeled boots. "Let me guess," she said. "You're a Sailor Scouse, right?"

"Oh, very funny." Samantha turned her back on Isobel. "Hey, what's Gia supposed to be?"

"Red Riding Hood," Gia said.

"Give over." Samantha gave her a closer look. "Well, maybe. I mean, it's red and there's a hood. It's just— I was expecting there'd be more of it."

"You sound like—" Gia began, and broke off. Her jaw dropped, and she burst out in uncharacteristic laughter. Samantha turned, to see what she was looking at, and couldn't help joining in.

"Miss Violet Elizabeth Heriot!" Isobel gasped, before joining in the general hilarity.

Zoë descended the stairs, scowling, her pink ruffled dress and elaborate auburn curls the focus of everybody's attention.

"What's happened to her hair?" Jamie asked. "Is that a wig?"

"Her normal hair is, isn't it?" Samantha said. "Well, a hairpiece anyway. But yeah, that one came with the costume."

"Don't be horrid to the poor little girl," Isobel said. "You'll make her cry. Or thcweam and thcweam until she's thick."

"I can see this is going to be a long evening," Zoë said. "Oh, well. Are we all ready?"

The other members of the party nodded.

"Right." The Doctor opened a panel in the machine he and Rory had been trying to move, and extracted a handful of gold-coloured discs, each about an inch across, covered with Gallifreyan writing. He handed two of these to each partygoer.

"Recall devices," he explained. "Keep them on you, and I'll lock on and bring you back when you're ready."

"How do you know when we're ready?" Victoria asked.

"Touch the centre of one with the edge of the other. So it's best if you don't keep them in the same pocket." He waited until the party had bestowed the recall discs about their persons. "Rory, how are you getting on?"

"There's a socket over here," Rory said. "Will that do?"

"Should do." The Doctor unhooked a coil of flex from the back of the machine, threw it to Rory, and waited while he plugged it in and switched it on.

Nothing happened.

"Is it broken?" Rory asked. "I don't think being dropped did it any good."

"Shouldn't think so. It's Gallifreyan technology. Tough as old boots." He gave the machine a kick, and winced. "No. Tougher."

He delved in his pockets, producing, in rapid succession, cycling clips, a rolled-up parchment, an Auton arm, a banana, and finally his sonic screwdriver. Returning the other junk to his pockets, he aimed the screwdriver at the machine. "That's more like it."

Pale light flickered inside the machine, and it gave a rusty groan, like a tractor badly in need of oil. A black, glassy tetrahedron shimmered into existence around the six partygoers, rose slightly, and bore them away.

"Have a great night," Rose called after them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Zoë's secret identity as Sailor Wheel In Space is revealed in [Sailor Who](http://www.ttrarchive.com/sailorwho.html), by B. K. Willis.


	2. The Party of the Millennium

The dance hall of the _Orchid Spray_ certainly lived up to expectations. Descending the grand staircase from the docking bay, one faced a colossal window, the full height and width of the room, that gave onto space. A delicate, filigreed nebula occupied most of the field of view. Overhead, the vaulted ceiling was picked out in lines of red and blue light. The decorations on the other three walls seemed to have been artificially muted not to distract from the view, but it was still possible to discern the dull gleam of gold and panels of stained glass. The floor resembled a lake of black liquid; it seemed to ripple at every footstep, yet remained dry and firm to the touch. Doors large enough to admit a main battle tank led to further rooms.

Through this vast chamber was passing a constant stream of glittering people — young and old, human and alien, their costumes ranging from the sophisticated to the risqué. At any given moment, hundreds would be gyrating on the dance floor, with hundreds more circulating around the edges of the room.

The music booming through the chamber came to an end. Flushed and radiant, Victoria curtseyed to her partner, then joined the crowd heading off the dance floor. Samantha was waiting for her by one of the pillars.

"Never thought I'd see you bopping like that," she said, as Victoria came up.

"I'm amazed I didn't strain something." Victoria grasped the black, bulb-shaped pendant hanging around her neck, which served as entrance ticket, dance card and bar tab. Holding it up, she read the words racing across its surface. "I'm not booked to dance again for a bit. What about you?"

Samantha checked her own pendant. "No, nor me. My next one's the Foam Extravaganza." She grinned. "Can't wait."

"Yes, that's my next dance as well." Victoria let the pendant fall. "I'm so thirsty. Let's go and have something to drink."

"Sounds like a plan." Samantha joined the stream of humanity heading for the bar, Victoria close beside her. "Seen any of the others?"

Victoria cast her mind back. "I danced with Jamie twice, and I saw Isobel in one of the four-squares with two Ice Warriors and some sort of giant beetle. What about you?"

"Only Jamie. But I wasn't really looking for the others." Samantha grinned. "Too busy checking out the boys."

"Oh, Samantha!"

"That's what we're here for, isn't it?" The bar was now in view: another vast room, softly lit, lined on three sides by a polished metal counter with rounded edges, and divided by low screens into a maze of nooks and crannies. In the centre, a fountain was running with what looked very much like wine. Samantha found a gap in the throng at the counter, used her elbows to make enough room for Victoria, and waited for one of the bartender robots to take their order. "Have a dance," she continued, "get kaylied, snog a few blokes."

"Personally, I take delight in friendly conversation and cultural exchange," Victoria said.

"Yeah, you say that now, but just you wait." Samantha paused briefly as a bartender robot glided up, a list of drinks shown on its screen. "What are you having?"

Victoria peered at the list. "I don't know what half of these are."

"Take a guess, then. Or just pick one. Go on, live a little."

Closing her eyes, Victoria placed her finger on the touchscreen. There was a beep, and she opened her eyes to see that she'd highlighted an entry.

"'Reversion Spanner,'" she read. "Whatever's that?"

"No idea."

"Maybe I should..."

"Too late, can't go back on it now." Samantha firmly pressed the 'confirm' button, then closed her eyes and made her own random choice. "Laburnum and rhubarb brandy. Sounds revolting."

Victoria pressed the 'confirm' button for her, and giggled. "It serves you right."

Having received their drinks from the robot, the two found an unoccupied table, in an alcove surrounded on three sides by latticework and artificial ivy. Victoria looked nervously at her glass, which contained half-a-dozen layers of coloured liquid and had a weathervane protruding from its top, and took a cautious sip.

"What's it like?" Samantha asked.

"Not unpleasant." Victoria tried a larger sip. "Quite refreshing. And yours?"

Samantha sipped at her own glass, which was full of turbid brown liquid, and grimaced. "Tastes just as bad as you'd think. No, worse."

"Go on, live a little." Victoria giggled again, and took a larger swig from her own glass. "This isn't bad at all."

Samantha tried the brandy again. "Eurgh. Next time I'm having what you're having."

Victoria sat up suddenly. "There's Zoë."

"Where?"

"Over there." Victoria pointed. "She's with a strange woman... they've gone now."

Samantha turned, but failed to see anyone she recognised in the crowd.

"I think that stuff's getting to you," she said, nodding at Victoria's cocktail.

The colour rose in Victoria's cheeks. "I know what I saw."

"OK, OK." Samantha leaned forward to put a conciliatory hand on Victoria's arm, and managed to knock her brandy into her own lap. She jumped up, but too late to do more than retrieve her now-empty glass.

"I really hope it wasn't Zoë you saw," she said, trying in vain to wring the brandy out of her borrowed sailor fuku. "If she sees what I've done to her dress she's gonna kill me."

"Oh, it was definitely Zoë," Victoria said. "Here, you can share my drink. If I didn't know better I'd say you spilt yours on purpose." She laughed again, a little too loudly.

"Yeah, maybe I'd better." Samantha sat down again, took the glass that Victoria pushed toward her, and took a measured sip. "Wow. I reckon you'd be out for the count if you'd had the whole lot to yourself. So who was this woman you saw Zoë with?"

"I didn't recognise her. It wasn't any of us. She was dressed..." Victoria waved her hands vaguely. "Something like tennis players do in your time, but with lace sleeves. And I think lace trousers as well. A tall woman, with very pale blonde hair."

"Yeah, she would have. Zoë's definitely got a 'type'." Samantha took another swig of the cocktail, and pushed the glass back across the table. "Tall, fair hair — and one hundred percent female."

*

"Is something the matter?" Zoë's new friend asked. She'd introduced herself as Lissa.

Zoë shook her head. "I thought I saw a friend of mine. It's not important; I'll be seeing her tomorrow anyway."

"Quite right." They made their way towards the central fountain, dodging through groups of guests. "You're the person I want to talk to. Three would definitely be a crowd."

They passed through a lightweight archway, and arrived at the fountain. A faintly glittering force field surrounded the main basin, preventing any overenthusiastic guest from falling in or introducing other foreign objects. Around its rim, wine poured into silver bowls, each one provided with a goblet on a chain. Partygoers, mostly couples in various stages of dishevelment, were making full use of these.

"If you don't mind, I suggest we don't bother with the wine," Lissa said, keeping to the outer edge of the pavement surrounding the fountain. "The whole setup looks unhygienic to me."

"I'm sure that's been planned for," Zoë said.

"Well, maybe." Lissa sat down on a curved marble bench, and gestured to Zoë to do likewise.

"Good," she said. "Now we can talk in private."

"Private?" Zoë repeated. "But there are people everywhere."

"None of whom care in the slightest about us." Lissa put her arm round Zoë's shoulders. "As far as anyone knows, we're just one more courting couple."

"And... aren't we?" Zoë asked mischievously.

Lissa smiled. "Not yet, anyway. Sorry if this sounds crazy to you, but: 'By what star does the wise man set his course?'"

"I don't know. By what star does the wise man set his course?"

"No, it isn't a joke."

Zoë gave her a blank look. "Well, in that case I haven't the slightest idea what you're talking about."

"Good." Lissa seemed to relax. "I think we'll get on very well together. Why don't you tell me more about yourself, Zoë?"

*

There was a similar fountain, running with melted chocolate rather than wine, in one of the chambers on the other side of the dance hall. Rather than the dim, romantic lighting that had characterised the bar, this area was bright and cheerful, just as busy, and just as noisy.

Someone caught Jamie's arm, with a cheerful "Hello, handsome!" He turned, to see Gia sitting by one of the outlets of the fountain. Since the last time he'd seen her, earlier that evening, she now had rose petals in her hair.

"Come and have a nibble," she said, holding out a bowl of what looked worryingly like fish fingers. "You put them in the chocolate. Like this."

Seeing Jamie hesitating, she demonstrated, dipping one of the objects into the chocolate and holding it out to him. Jamie took a cautious bite, then eagerly finished the sweetmeat. It tasted of honey.

"Lovely, aren't they?" Gia gave him a bright smile. "Isn't this fun?"

"You've got chocolate on your face." Jamie looked around, located a machine that dispensed paper towels, and dabbed at Gia's cheek. "That's better."

"Thank you." She smiled again, slightly vacuously. "You're so sweet and kind."

Jamie looked at her with concern. "Have you been drinking?"

"Of course I have. But if you mean, am I sloshed, then I'm not. Not yet. Ask me again a bit later. It's definitely on my to-do list. I've only got as far as tiddly at the moment."

"Och, Gia..."

"I can't do this sort of thing Inside, Jamie. One false move and it'd be the end of my career. I can only be my proper self with you and the girls." She planted an undeniable kiss on his cheek. "You look really sexy in that tuxedo."

"Gia, I—" Jamie broke off. He'd been going to say that he didn't think of her in that way. But seeing her like this, forsaking her severe jumpsuit for a costume that left little to the imagination, and literally letting her hair down... he _was_ thinking of her in that way. Thinking very appreciatively of her, too. He realised he was holding her hand, and couldn't remember how that had come about.

"Listen—" he began, but before he could continue she'd pushed one of the chocolate-coated honey sticks into his mouth.

"No, you listen, Jamie. You're always flirting with the other girls. Well, now it's my turn."

"Flirting?" Jamie would have repeated, if his mouth hadn't been full.

"Don't think I haven't noticed." Gia looked him in the eye with surprising seriousness. "Don't you think I'm as pretty as Victoria or Sam?"

"I think you're very beautiful," Jamie heard himself saying. "And I'd like to..."

Gia smiled. "You'd like to do what?"

Before Jamie could answer, he was saved by the bell — or rather, the Isobel.

"There you are," she said, descending on the happy couple like a cheerfully self-centred whirlwind. "I don't suppose you've seen my handcuffs?"

"No, I haven't seen your handcuffs," Gia replied. "Where did you have them last?"

"Well, that's the thing. I'm not entirely sure." She looked from Gia to Jamie and back, seeming to notice for the first time that they were holding hands. "Sorry, did I interrupt something?"

"I was trying to make a pass at Jamie," Gia said matter-of-factly.

Isobel patted her on the shoulder. "Nice work, sister. It'll do you good to unwind a bit. Let it all hang out, that's what I say."

"With yon dress, I think that's jist what she is doing," Jamie couldn't help saying.

Isobel chuckled. "It worked on you, didn't it? Well, nearly." She leaned over to Gia and attempted to whisper to her. "Bet you he'll say yes, next time."

*

On some inner level, Zoë's mental conditioning was still at work. As she walked hand in hand with Lissa up the grand staircase, she knew in coldly factual terms that alcohol had impaired her judgement and reaction speed, her self-discipline was all over the place, and she was dangerously open to suggestion. But in her current emotional state, those facts only made things more exciting. For once, her passions had the upper hand over her rationality, and were determined to keep things that way for as long as possible, whatever the risks.

"The docking bay's this way," Lissa said, leading Zoë through the flower-wreathed archway onto another staircase, of similar gargantuan proportions, but spiralling rather than straight. She indicated the downward direction.

"Doesn't seem very logical to me," Zoë said. "We just went up all those stairs. Now we've got to go down again. That's silly. If they had a door instead of those steps it would come out in the wall about there." She waved her hand at the wall in question and nearly fell over. "And then you'd just have to spin this staircase round by five-forty degrees or so to make the exit line up." She swayed. "I think someone's doing that anyway."

Lissa steadied her. "No, that's just you. Don't worry, not far now."

"This had better be something really spectacular." It took Zoë several goes to get 'spectacular' right. "If it turns out you're doing all this to to lure me into your spaceship and steal all my money, I'm going to be disappointed. And so are you, because I haven't got any money." To her fuddled senses, it seemed that they were walking along a gently branching path through a forest. "Am I hallucinating?"

"Oh, pull yourself together." Lissa squeezed her hand encouragingly. "And here we are."

Ahead, the forest path opened into a glade. On the far side, pairs of trees flanked massive circular hatches.

"Dead on time," Lissa added. "Close your eyes and open your mouth."

"Ready when you are," Zoë said, and screwed up her eyes.

Something touched her lips. There was a soundless burst of colour and pressure, and she felt herself falling backwards, streamers of light filling her vision.

The rational part of her mind had time for one last thought: _I told me so._


	3. The Perils of Strong Drink

Consciousness returned slowly and reluctantly to Samantha. Her head was pounding, her body stiff, and there was a horrible taste in her mouth. She opened an eye, wincing at the brightness of the light.

"Where am I?" she mumbled.

"Aha," Jamie's voice said. "I think we've got another live one."

With an effort, Samantha raised her head. She was lying on a couch, in what looked like some kind of circular anteroom. Nearby, Victoria was slumped on another couch, still in her Starfleet jumpsuit, her Trill makeup smudged and smeared. Jamie was standing over her. His bowtie was undone, but apart from that he looked fresh and ready for action — a James Bond, perhaps, who had taken a short break from his game of baccarat to seduce his archrival's mistress, and was still prepared to throw an assassin off a balcony should the need arise.

"What's up?" Samantha croaked. "What happened?" She probed her memory of the previous evening, coming up with a fog through which various images loomed — most pleasant, some less so. "Last thing I remember, I was dancing. How did I get here?"

"You walked," Jamie said. "Mind you, if I'd not been holding your arm every step of the way, you'd have ended up flat on your face. And you weren't the only one."

Not without another pang, Samantha turned to follow his gaze. This wasn't an anteroom, but a bedroom, with a large unmade double bed. Perched on the edge of this was Gia, her hair a tangled mess, her head in her hands. Isobel was huddled on the floor nearby, her eyes red-rimmed and her police uniform crumpled.

"Must've been quite a party," Samantha said.

Victoria opened one eye. "You ought to know. You were there."

"Yeah, suppose I was." Samantha rubbed her aching eyes and looked around. "Hang on. There's only five of us. Where's Zoë?"

Gia raised her head. "That's what we'd all like to know. Do you remember seeing her?"

"I can't remember anything," Samantha said. "I've got the hangover of the millennium."

"So've I." Gia nodded, then gasped and clutched her head again.

"I think we all have." Isobel looked up at Jamie. "Except you. Why?"

Jamie looked smug. "Well, some of us can hold our drink, and some cannae."

"There's got to be more to it than that."

"Oh, all right, then. Charley gave me these before we came." He produced a small bottle of pills, and carefully read the label. "Runkle's Magic Midgets. I took a couple and they cleared up my headache in no time."

"I'm not taking something called Magic Midgets," Gia protested. "Who knows what they'd do?"

Victoria put a hand to her stomach. "I'm going to try them. They can't make me feel any worse."

*

One round of Magic Midgets later, the party were, at least, able to sit up and talk intelligently. The pills had also rendered their memories of the night before somewhat less blurry; though opinion varied on whether or not this was a good thing.

"Let's make sure we're all up to date." Gia pushed her hair out of her eyes, not for the first time. "Zoë didn't turn up for the— what was it again?"

"Cascade Fandango," Isobel said, checking her pendant. "But we didn't think much of it at the time. You just said it was her lookout, and went back to your kissing competition."

"We agreed not to mention the kissing competition," Victoria said.

"You just don't want to think about all those people you snogged," Samantha said. "It's like, you drink enough and all your inhibitions go kablooey in one go. Same thing with Gia," she added pensively. "I wonder if that's why you two get on so well together?"

"We agreed not to mention it," Victoria repeated. "Anyway, I wasn't the one who tried to romance a standard lamp."

"I wish I'd had my camera for that," Isobel said. "I think you were really in with a chance there, too. He was a good catch. Tall, elegant, such a pretty shade..."

"All right, all right," Samantha said. "Point taken. Let's talk about something else."

"OK. Whatever did you do to your costume?"

Samantha looked down at her stained fuku. "Had a bit of an accident."

"Ewww."

"I mean I spilled my drink. Get your mind out of the gutter."

"Zoë'll go spare when she sees it."

"That's what I said to Victoria." Something tickled Samantha's memory. "Yeah, she said she'd just seen Zoë. When was that? In the bar, just before that thing with all the foam. Don't you remember, Victoria?"

"My head feels as if it's full of cotton wool." Victoria closed her eyes. "Oh, yes. That's right. She was with another girl— well, a woman, really. A stranger." Hastily, she described the brief glimpse she'd had.

"And no-one saw her after that?" Gia said.

Jamie shook his head. "I danced with her, but that was early on. Then she went off to explore with Isobel."

Isobel nodded. "That's right. Then my next dance came up, so she went off on her own. And that must have been at least an hour before Victoria saw her."

"So she went off with a girl," Samantha said. "So what? Maybe they crashed out somewhere like we did. Or maybe she went back to the Round."

"But maybe she didnae," Jamie said. "We ought tae make sure no harm's come to her before we go back."

"I should like to wash my face first," Victoria said. "Is there a bathroom somewhere?"

Jamie pointed. "Through that door."

"What about spare clothes?" Samantha said, as Victoria disappeared into the bathroom. "Don't suppose there's any of them?"

"None."

"Oh, great. Just look at us. Sailor Spillage and the scatty squad."

"Is that so?" Jamie asked. "What does that make me— Hang on. Someone's coming."

He jumped to his feet and crossed to the door. As he opened it, the sound of desperately running footsteps could be heard. A young woman with a shaved head threw herself into the room, her elaborate ballgown trailing behind her, and a domino mask dangling from one hand.

"Hide me!" she gasped. "Please!"


	4. A Damsel in Distress

"Get in the bed," Jamie said instantly. "Under the covers." He climbed into the bed beside the newcomer. "Someone go on that side of her."

"Might as well be me," Gia said, ducking into the bed and pulling the covers over herself.

"Right. If anyone comes looking for yon lassie, we fell asleep here after the party and no-one's seen a thing."

"Got it." Isobel turned out the lights, and adopted a posture of slumber on one couch, while Samantha hastily flung herself onto another. Hardly had the group got into position, than somebody hammered on the door from outside.

"Who's there?" Jamie called.

"Security. Open the door."

"Go away," Isobel retorted. "We're trying to sleep."

There was a low, muttered, conversation outside; then the lock clicked, the door opened, and the light came on again. Two men, dressed in grey uniforms, strode in, and glanced briefly around, seeing only drowsy, dishevelled partygoers.

"No dice," one of them said. "Sorry to intrude."

The lights snapped off, and the door closed.

"No-one move," Jamie's voice whispered. "Just in case."

They waited in silence for a few minutes lest the men had only pretended to leave. When, after that time, there was no sign of the men returning, Jamie switched on a bedside light.

"Right," he said. "Let's have a look at you."

The girl cautiously emerged from the sheets between Jamie and Gia.

"Thank you," she said. "Listen, I need—"

Victoria chose that moment to return from the bathroom, her face pale and scrubbed. She stopped and stared at the trio in the bed.

"James Robert McCrimmon," she said, once she'd recovered the power of speech. "I hope you have an extremely good explanation for this."

"This young lassie's in trouble," Jamie said.

"Of course she is. She's in bed with you. That would be enough trouble for anyone. Gia, what are the three of you doing in there?"

"Make up your own explanation," Gia said. "It's got to be more convincing than anything I could come up with."

"Please!" the girl said, before the argument could continue. "I need to get to the docking bays before those men come back."

"Just a minute," Samantha protested. "How do we know you're not a burglar or something? What's going on?"

"Come with me and I'll tell you." From the sound of her voice, she was used to giving orders, and not brooking disagreement. "There's no time to waste."

"We need to find Zoë," Isobel protested. "Not go tearing off on some wild-goose chase."

"Zoë's probably just overslept," Jamie said. "This lass needs our help now."

In next to no time, the whole group were hurrying down a gently-curving corridor that was still strewn with the debris of the previous night's party. Empty and half-full drinking vessels were interspersed with discarded items of clothing — and, here and there, a comatose partygoer who hadn't made it to one of the bedrooms. The newcomer, having glanced nervously both ways, launched into her story.

"I'm Emmi Sheffield," she said. Her tone suggested her listeners should find that significant, but all she got by way of return was puzzled glances. " _The_ Emmi Sheffield, you know. My dad's the CEO of Sheffield Industries?" She shook her head. "OK, all you need to know is he's a big man back on Old Earth. Anyway, he doesn't know I'm here. I'm supposed to be on a gap year doing something dull and worthy with the poor of Lorn VII, but I wasn't going to miss this. So I agreed a pickup with Rollo — he's my boyfriend, sort of. Rollo Hetherington," she added, as an aside. "Heir to GCI Chemicals. If you don't know who I am, you probably haven't heard of him, either."

"Correct," Gia said. By now, they had reached a circular, domed hall where several of the corridors joined. A broad spiral staircase ran round the outer wall, marked with a deck number and a temporary banner reading CRASH ZONE. At the centre of the hall stood a circular reception counter, manned by several people in smart-looking uniforms. Jamie crossed to the desk and handed the nearest official something that resembled an outsize key.

"That was the pass for our room," he said. "Just in case some of you weren't sober enough to remember."

"I remember," Gia said. "In outline, at least. I was with you when we booked in."

"That makes sense," Samantha said. "Why we ended up sleeping on settees and things, I mean. You got there first and bagged the bed."

"You could have shared with her," Victoria said. "There was plenty of room."

Samantha shook her head. "I don't swing that way."

"Come along!" Emmi called. She was standing at the top of the downward flight of stairs, and set out down them with out checking to see if anybody was following her.

"Who died and made you King?" Jamie muttered, hurrying after her.

*

The circular theme that ran through this liner was no less apparent on the docking bay level. Once more, the staircase led to a domed hall, and once more corridors radiated from it. The ship's designers had settled on a forest theme; the walls were painted to resemble trees, and clumps of realistic greenery hung from the ceiling.

"Here's what happened," Emmi said. "Rollo and I were going to meet at his space yacht. I got there in good time and waited for him in the docking bay, and he showed up after a bit. I saw him on the other side of the bay— there were quite a lot of people around, you see. Then some girl chose that moment to have a fit. Rolling on the floor, screaming, foaming at the mouth, the works. Everyone was fussing round her, calling med-bay and so on. And by the time she'd been carted off, I couldn't see Rollo anywhere. I checked his ship, but it was empty. And my pendant couldn't locate him."

"Hang on, you can do that with one of these things?" Isobel asked. She took hold of her own pendant. "How?"

"Like this. Pendant, where is Rollo Hetherington?" She held the device up. "Look. 'Unknown.'"

"What did you do then?" Victoria asked.

"I tried asking people if they'd seen where he was. I didn't want to go to Security, you see, because then it would be official and my father would find out I'd been here. Then I went to med-bay to see if that girl had recovered. I thought she might have seen something. No-one there had even heard of her. The whole thing must have been faked.

"After I'd been to med-bay I decided I'd have to make things official," Emmi continued. "I mean, it's obviously a conspiracy directed at Rollo or me. Father would blow his top, but I'd rather that than end up dead. But when I went to the security guys... They didn't seem to believe me, but they said they'd put a call in to their chief and I should wait till he got there. I waited for ages and no-one came. I think they were just trying to delay me as long as possible. In the end I said I was going. They said I shouldn't. I realised they must be in it, too, so I made a run for it."

"And that's when they started chasing you," Jamie said.

"That's right."

By now they had reached a docking bay similar to the one Emmi had described. Here, the woodland illusion was marred by five circular hatches on the far well, too large to disguise as vegetation or rocks; though each was flanked by two huge trees, or things that looked like trees.

"Is this where your young man's ship is?" Gia asked.

Emmi shook her head. "It's under guard. I couldn't get to it. But I did a search, and there's a Sheffield Industries light freighter, the _Vanguard_ , docked on this pylon. Bringing supplies for the party. I'll take command of it."

"You?" Victoria asked. "Are you a pilot?"

"No, but I'm the CEO's daughter. The captain will do what I say." She crossed to one of the hatches, and placed her hand on a palm scanner. The massive circular hatch split into four irregularly-shaped segments, each retracting into the wall.

"Just a moment," Isobel said. "Pendant, where is Zoë Heriot?" She looked at the gadget. "Oh. 'Unknown.'"

"She must have gone back to the Round," Jamie said. "She'll be sorry she missed this."

Victoria pointed down the corridor they'd arrived from. "Look. Guards!"

Sure enough, grey-uniformed security men were hurrying in their direction. The group lost no time in diving into the hatch; Emmi waited until they were all through it, then manipulated the controls again. The hatch closed with a boom, leaving them in a sparse, utilitarian airlock.

"Right. I'll go and talk to the captain," Emmi said. She led them through the inner door of the airlock. The area beyond differed sharply from the spacious, lavishly-appointed space liner; it was a grubby-looking, windowless cargo bay, lit by a harsh, functional light. "You'd better wait here."

"What about those men?" Jamie asked. "Can't they get in?"

"They wouldn't dare. But I'll get the captain to undock and stand off, just in case. Back in a bit."

She swept regally across the bay, in the direction of a similar airlock at the far end.

"We don't actually have any reason to be here, do we?" Victoria said. "Those men are looking for Emmi, not us."

"We couldn't abandon her," Jamie said. "She was in trouble."

"Yes, but now she's with her own people. She doesn't need our help any more."

"Well, we could ask her to drop us off somewhere. Or just go back to the Round. You've all still got those things, haven't you?"

A hasty check of their clothes reassured them that nobody had lost their recall discs.

"Wonder why she cut all her hair off?" Samantha said, irrelevantly.

"Fashion, I expect," Isobel said. "People do the weirdest things because it's fashionable."

"No kidding." Samantha looked around. "You're very quiet, Gia."

"Professional interest," Gia said. "Most of our business at T-Mat is freight." She gestured at the contents of the bay. "Looks as if the standard pallet size hasn't changed much since my time. And they don't seem to be teleporting the stuff out. Momentum transfer must still be a problem."

Jamie looked at her, picturing her expression the previous evening, when she'd tried to open her heart to him. There was no trace of any tenderness in her now, only her usual brisk efficiency.

"What's that, then?" he asked.

"Where shall I start? Well, imagine someone threw a big, heavy ball at you, really hard. It might knock you over or break your ribs."

"Aye, I can see that."

"If you tried to beam someone from a planet to a spaceship with one of my T-Mats, something similar would happen. You'd probably rip the spaceship apart. Or the person."

"I wish you hadn't said that," Victoria said. "I can't stop picturing it now. Please can we change the subject? This place is very tidy."

"Isn't it?" Isobel said. "Have you noticed? All the crates are arranged symmetrically. Whoever's in charge must be an artist — or a neat freak."

Victoria shook her head. "I hadn't. Don't you think it's a bit— oh!"

The hold shuddered, and a brief, harsh vibration ran through the deckplates. Jamie grabbed at the closest person to hand, who happened to be Samantha.

"What's going on?" he asked.

"I presume we've undocked," Gia said. "That noise was probably the thrusters. What a way to travel."

"I wish there was a window," Isobel said. "We'd be seeing that great big liner from the outside. It must look amazing."

Victoria, already pale, went a few shades paler. "Please excuse me for a moment. I need to sit down."

She suited her action to her words, sitting on the floor and putting her head between her knees.

"Take deep breaths," Isobel advised her.

"Are you all right?" Jamie added, letting go of Samantha.

Before Victoria could reply, footsteps could be heard approaching, and Emmi strode into view. She was accompanied by another woman, in her early twenties by the look of her, who was dressed in a smart jumpsuit with two gold bands round the sleeves. On her head, she was wearing an odd-looking helmet that, to Isobel's way of thinking, resembled a coal scuttle.

"Did you get through to your dad?" Samantha asked.

Emmi shook her head. "There was some sort of communications interference. So Captain Tseng's going to move us out into space a bit."

"Interference? You mean those fake security guys are jamming your radio?"

"More or less. Anyway, I've got to get back to the bridge. Lieutenant Malmsten will take care of you."

She hurried away.

"Good morning," the Lieutenant said, with a bright smile. "I'm afraid you're stuck here for the time being. Obviously you want to get off as soon as possible, but that's going to depend on whatever Miss Sheffield and the Captain decide. If you'd like to come this way?"

Victoria held out her hands, and Jamie pulled her to her feet. Over his shoulder, she saw the Lieutenant properly for the first time, and recognised her at once.

"Let me introduce myself," the Lieutenant continued. "Lissa Malmsten, Lieutenant Second Class. Welcome aboard."


	5. The Logicians

Zoë had been awake for some time, though she was trying not to show it, keeping her eyes shut and her ears open. It reminded her of the Telzey Amberdon stories she'd read as a little girl. Telzey had done the same when she'd been taken prisoner by the Lion People of Nalakia, she recalled, and had learned all sorts of useful things. In due course she'd made her escape, saved the day, and still managed to get home in time for her sixteenth birthday party.

Of course, Zoë reflected, Telzey had the advantage that she could read and control minds. The parapsychology training Zoë had received had granted no such handy abilities, meaning that she was now forced to rely on whatever fragments or snippets she could hear, which had been precious little.

Abruptly, the room shuddered, and she heard and felt a low, harsh buzzing. If she'd really been asleep, that would definitely have woken her up. She opened her eyes, and looked around. She seemed to be lying on the floor, atop a thin inflatable mattress. The room around her was small and functional, empty of furniture. Walls, floor and ceiling were all made of what looked like grey plastic. A metal-edged panel was presumably the door.

Zoë slid her hands into her pockets. Empty. Her captors, whoever they were, had taken the recall discs. If she was going to get out of here, it wasn't going to be the easy way. She tried to sit up, gasped in pain, and fell back on the mattress, her head spinning and her stomach churning. She found herself wishing that, like Telzey, she'd been organized enough to have the adventure first and the party afterwards.

*

"I'm afraid things aren't very luxurious," Lieutenant Malmsten said, ushering her charges into an untidy wardroom.

Samantha shrugged. "We've put up with worse."

"Food machine's there, if you need it. Washroom's down the hall, second on the right. Now I've got to get back to the bridge. Don't touch anything if you don't know what it does."

She marched out.

"Not sure I feel up to breakfast," Isobel said, lowering herself into a tatty-looking armchair. "I'm still a bit delicate after last night."

"I'm not surprised," Samantha said. She turned to Victoria. "What's the matter? You look all funny. Are you feeling OK?"

"More or less," Victoria said. "But it's about the Lieutenant. I'm sure I saw her at the party last night."

"No reason why she shouldn't have been there, is there?"

Victoria leaned forward. "She was the woman in the white lacy thing. The one Zoë was with, the last time I saw her."

"Hmm." Gia perched on a battered chair, considering the matter. "It's probably just a coincidence. But you'd better ask her if she knows anything, next time she shows up."

*

The door opened. Zoë looked up.

"Lissa?" she said.

Lieutenant Malmsten removed her helmet. "Yes, it's me. I think you're owed an explanation."

"Make sure not to raise your voice." Zoë lay back and closed her eyes. "I've got a splitting headache."

"I'm sorry. Everything you've been through has been for the greater good."

Zoë groaned. "That's not much of a comfort, here and now."

"I hope one day you'll look back on this and agree it was worth it. I do. This plan was developed by the Grand Master himself. Every significant contingency has been considered and guarded against."

"You aren't actually explaining anything." Zoë opened her eyes. "What Grand Master, anyway?"

"Of the Guild of Logicians."

A vague recollection flickered in Zoë's mind. "That question you asked me last night. Was that to do with the Guild?"

"Yes. It's the start of the Initiates' ritual. I wanted to be sure you weren't one of us—"

"Before you drugged me and kidnapped me."

Lissa made a conciliatory gesture. "Again, I can only apologise. Don't worry. When all this is over you won't even remember what happened."

Zoë closed her eyes again. "So you're one of those. I might have guessed."

*

Emmi swept into the wardroom, looking frustrated.

"We still can't get a signal out," she said. "The Captain reckons it'll take at least twenty minutes before we're clear of the interference field. This is so annoying. Maybe I'll have him demoted."

"D'ye ken if there's anyone coming after us?" Jamie asked.

"The Captain said there isn't."

"I wonder why not. Surely if someone's chasing you they wouldnae give up just like that."

Emmi drew herself up to her full height. "No-one would dare to attack one of my father's ships. He'd have them burned out of space."

"I'll take your word for that," Isobel said. "I suppose we'll just have to kick our heels, then." She looked around the room. "I think that neat-freak's been here, too."

"But it's a complete mess in here."

"No, it isn't. Not really. I know what a complete mess looks like."

"So do I," Samantha said. "I've seen your studio."

"I see your point," Victoria said. "I've never seen such organised chaos. But does it matter?"

"I don't know. It just feels a bit weird." Isobel turned slowly, examining the room. "You've gone quiet again, Gia. What are you thinking about?"

"Coincidences," Gia said. "Miss Sheffield, can you tell us about the young woman who was taken ill, when you were waiting to meet your fiancé? What did she look like?"

"About her size," Emmi said, indicating Victoria. "She was wearing an old-style pink dress with ruffles and bows all over. And a ginger wig — it fell off when she was rolling about screaming. Her actual hair was dark, I think. Why?" She looked around at the group. "Have I said something wrong?"

"That's how Zoë was dressed," Jamie replied. "And if Victoria's right, yon Lieutenant's got something to do with it."

"So what?"

"So she's one of your plotters, isn't she? That's why they're not chasing us. They're here already. You've not escaped at all."

"No." Emmi shook her head vigorously. "No!"

"It sounds all too plausible to me," Gia said.

"But they wouldn't dare—" She broke off, as the room shuddered. The lights dimmed, and the air was filled with a hum that rapidly rose in pitch.

"Now what?" Isobel asked.

"I don't know," Emmi said grimly. "But I'm going to find out. Come with me."

She pushed the wardroom door open, and led the others down the ship's main corridor. Before she reached the door at the far end, it opened, and a man stepped through. Judging by the number of stripes on his sleeves, not to mention his respectable appearance, this was clearly Captain Tseng. He was followed, a moment later, by Lieutenant Malmsten, and then by another officer. All three calmly drew blasters, and aimed them at Emmi's party.

"Captain!" Emmi said. "What are you doing?"

"We're now travelling through shuntspace," the Captain said. Had it not been for the gun in his hand, he might have been trying to reassure nervous passengers that there was no cause for concern.

"I didn't tell you to! Stop at once!"

Tseng shook his head. "That isn't a decision for you to make."

"When we get back to Earth you'll be dismissed without a character. I'll see that nobody ever employs you again. My father—"

"I think you're labouring under a misapprehension, Miss Sheffield. Since we undocked from the _Orchid Spray_ , I no longer work for your father. Nor do my crew. You are to consider yourselves my prisoners, all of you." He gestured with the gun. "Now, move."

"But you can't—" Emmi began.

Victoria took her by the hand. "I'm afraid he can. There's nothing we can do except follow orders."

"Very sensible of you," the Captain said.

"Aye, well, we've done it enough times," Jamie said, raising his hands resignedly. "I don't suppose you'll say who's behind all this? Who are you working for?"

"It isn't necessary to tell you," the Captain replied. "Lieutenant, search them."

Relieved of their pendants and recall discs, plus (in Jamie's case) a penknife and a replica Walther PPK, the party were herded into a storage closet. Unlike the wardroom, it was completely devoid of furnishings, and barely large enough for them all to sit on the floor. The door closed behind them with a forbidding click.

Emmi's first reaction to the situation was to burst into tears.

"This can't be happening," she sobbed. "It can't."

"I'm afraid it is," Victoria said, patting her on the hand. "The question is what we are to do about it."

"There isn't anything to do. You can't fight these people. They've thought of everything."

Victoria, to her own considerable amazement, found herself exchanging an eyeroll with Samantha.

"There's plenty we can do," Jamie said. "There's got to be."

"But my father—"

"Shut up," Isobel said, "and listen. As things are, it doesn't matter who your father is or how rich you are. None of that's going to help us get out of this. So unless you've got any decent ideas, keep your mouth shut and leave it to the professionals."

Samantha couldn't help laughing. "Professionals?"

"Well, semi-professionals," Isobel conceded. "Experienced amateurs. And my point stands."

"OK. If you're so good, any ideas how we get out of here?"

Isobel thought. "Suppose I pretended to be ill? Then they'd send someone to check me over and we could bash them and make our escape."

"That trick's got hairs on," Samantha said. "They'd never fall for it."

"Suppose I was actually sick? I think I could do that."

"It's bad enough in here without you sticking your fingers down your throat and puking all over everywhere. Probably set the rest of us off, too. We'd be swimming around in the stuff."

Victoria winced at the mental image. "You have such a way with words."

"Has anyone got any better ideas, then?" Isobel asked, looking put out at the reception her idea had received. She looked around. "Gia, are you canoodling with Jamie again?"

"What do you mean, 'again'?" Victoria asked.

Gia, who was holding Jamie's hand in both of hers, shook her head. "Emmi, you said these people had thought of everything. Well, they didn't. They haven't taken Jamie's wristwatch."

"What good's that to us?" Emmi sniffled.

"Not a lot, in the normal course of events. But have you forgotten who he's supposed to be dressed as?"

Isobel's jaw dropped. "You are having me on. Aren't you?"

*

"Hello again," Zoë said. She was able to sit up, now, but between her hangover and the aftereffects of whatever she'd been drugged with, standing was out of the question. "Don't you have anything better to do with your time?"

"I've got a proposition to make to you," Lieutenant Malmsten replied.

"I hope it's better than the last two."

"Oh, it will be." Malmsten sat on the floor beside Zoë, and looked her in the eye. "How would you like to join our Guild?"

Zoë opened her mouth, closed it again, and sat for a while in silence.

"Tell me more," she said. "What sort of organisation is this Guild?"

"The greatest combination of intelligence in history," Malmsten said eagerly, leaning forward. "We recruit the finest, the most sophisticated minds, wherever we find them. Our planners and strategists are unrivalled."

"And presumably you drugged and kidnapped me for some plan or other. What was it?"

"I suppose it can't do any harm to give you some of the background. This operation is aimed against Sheffield Industries. Our Inner Circle feel that for three generations, they have been the enemies of responsible government. We do not have the power to challenge them directly—" this admission sounded reluctant "—but subtler approaches were devised. Our plan was to secure the heiress presumptive, Emmi Sheffield. This, we have now done."

"And where do I fit into this?"

"One element of our plan involved distracting Miss Sheffield at a crucial moment. With the right drugs, you were that distraction."

"Thank you very much!"

Malmsten had the grace to look slightly contrite. "You should be back to normal in a few hours. And sometimes the greater good requires minor sacrifices from individuals."

"Minor sacrifices," Zoë repeated. "And what are you going to do with this heiress now you've got her?"

"I'm afraid I can't tell you that. Not yet, anyway. Explaining something that's already happened is one thing, but future plans are quite another. Perhaps we could trust each other more if you were to tell me something."

"Such as?"

"When you were searched, we found two coinlike objects, of unknown origin, composition and purpose. What are they, and where did you get them?"

"Sorry," Zoë said. "I can't tell you that, either."

"Well, we'll return to the subject later. Now, do think carefully about my offer."

She got to her feet, and turned to go.

"One question," Zoë called after her. "Why me? What made you think I was good enough for your guild?"

"We're always on the lookout for suitable candidates. I thought you might make the grade when we met at the party. That was one reason why I chose you; so I could talk to you in private here. I had to get Captain Tseng's approval first, of course."

"He's one of your Guild, too? I suppose all the crew must be."

Malmsten gave her an enigmatic smile. "I can't confirm or deny that."

She left Zoë alone with her thoughts.


	6. Exploring Possibilities

"Let's go over the objectives again," Gia said. "Assuming that we get out of here, we need to neutralise the crew—"

"That's what, about fifteen people?" Samantha said.

Emmi nodded. "I think so."

"Bring us out of shuntspace," Gia continued, "send a distress signal, and get our recall discs back. Agreed?"

"Put like that, it sounds quite formidable," Victoria said.

"It'd be easier if it was monsters," Samantha said. "You're allowed to kill monsters. The Doctor's not gonna be pleased if we murder everyone on board."

"Depends which Doctor you ask," Jamie said. "But that's a fair point."

"Maybe if we made things so bad we didn't have any choice except to kill everyone?"

"Cool," Victoria said.

Samantha looked surprised. "Thanks."

"I didn't intend that as a compliment."

"What d'you mean, cool isn't a compliment? 'Course it is."

"It isn't where I come from. I meant..." Victoria thought briefly. "Cold-hearted, I suppose."

"And I'm not familiar with any of this technology," Gia said. "It's centuries ahead of my time."

"Welcome to my world," Jamie said.

"Do you happen to have any tips for what to do in this situation?"

Jamie shrugged. "The way I see it, whatever year you're in, most stuff breaks if you hit it hard enough."

Before the discussion could continue, the door was thrown open. The man standing there was the third officer from before, accompanied by two armed men of his own.

"Miss Sheffield," he said. "Come with us."

Slowly, fearfully, Emmi rose to her feet.

"The rest of you, stay put. If you cooperate you won't be harmed."

"You leave her alone!" Samantha shouted, jumping to her feet. The man aimed his weapon and fired; she staggered back, tripped over Isobel, and collapsed in an untidy heap.

"Sam!" Jamie hurried over to her. "Sam, are you hurt?"

Samantha sat up cautiously. "I don't think he hit me."

"That was a warning." The man now had Emmi tightly by the arm. "The next one won't be."

He dragged her out. Once more, the door shut with a heavy click. The group listened until the sound of retreating footsteps died away.

"They've not left a guard," Jamie said. "That's all to the good."

"We're still no closer to beating them," Isobel said. "If we couldn't handle him, why would we do any better with the rest?"

"He was on his guard. We need to catch them unawares." Jamie got to his feet. "Anyway, we cannae spend all day in here talking about what we're going tae do. Let's get them. Gia, you said you could get this watch tae do something clever?"

"I did." Gia joined him by the door. "Let's see..."

She touched a stud on the watch. A solid beam of red light sprang out, hitting the surface of the door with a puff of oily smoke.

"Right a bit," she muttered, aiming Jamie's arm as if it had been a cutting tool. "Down... Got you."

The lock sparked and flickered under the onslaught. The other occupants of the room crouched down, trying to avoid the clouds of smoke.

"That's it," Gia eventually said. "It's out of power. Jamie, see what you can do."

"Right." Jamie aimed a kick at the area where Gia had been cutting. With a crack, the lock gave way, and the door opened. Somewhere in the distance, alarms started to sound.

"Split up, everyone," he said. "Victoria, you're with me."

He turned to the right, and dashed down the corridor. Gia and Isobel turned to the left. Samantha, perhaps a little shaken by her close encounter with the officer, went more slowly, trying to get a handle on the layout of the place. What she needed was a gun or something; even if she wasn't prepared to shoot people in cold blood, it would make any bluff she tried a lot more convincing.

The first door she opened led into a room full of bunk beds, whose occupants appeared to have been woken by the alarm and were in the process of dressing. For a second, she stared at them, and they at her; then, as they rushed towards her, she slammed the door. There was a red panel on the frame marked LOCK, which she whacked with the flat of her hand. Almost at once, there were thuds and crashing noises on the far side. It seemed likely that they'd break it down in fairly short order — or, of course, they could call for help from their colleagues. Still, it was something.

The next door she came to was already locked. Not giving herself time to think, Samantha pressed the panel, dived through the door, and closed it behind her.

"Sam!" Zoë's voice said from behind her. "What are you doing here?" As Samantha turned, she added "And what in Space have you done to my sailor outfit?"

*

"Mercy!" Victoria gazed at the seemingly endless network of pipes. "Whatever is this place?"

"I'd say it was an oxygen room," Jamie said. "It keeps the air fresh. See all those tubes? Yon green slime's algae. When you shine a light on it, it turns all the wee carbon dioxides in the air into oxygens."

Victoria looked at him as if he'd grown a second head. "How in the world do you know that, Jamie?"

Jamie attempted a modest smile. "Zoë explained it to me when I was on her space station."

"So if it stopped working, no-one would be able to breathe. That isn't very useful. I like being able to breathe."

"Aye, I like you being able to breathe as well," Jamie said. "Especially in yon uniform. You should wear things like that more often."

"Really, Jamie!" Victoria tried her best frown. "What I mean is, it wouldn't do any good to turn it off."

"I think we should try anyway," Jamie said. "Because what'll those fellows do if they think someone's fiddling wi' the air?"

"They'll try to stop us. They'd have to."

"Exactly. And that means they're not chasing after the others." He looked around. "We need a hammer or something."

Victoria pointed at a control panel. "Then we'd better try doing something with that. I think smashing the pipes would be a terrible idea. Even if we could get at them" — she gestured at the inch-thick transparent blast shield separating them from the delicate plumbing — "you'd get broken glass everywhere."

She pressed various buttons on the panel at random. Nothing seemed to happen.

"That'll never work," Jamie said. "Stand back and I'll try this."

Victoria turned, to see that he was now holding a hefty wrench.

"Where did you get that?" she asked.

"It was in yon cupboard." He indicated a cabinet on the wall. "Now, let's see what it can do."

Victoria hastily moved away from the panel. Jamie brought the spanner down on it with all his strength. It smashed through the surface, and embedded itself in the circuitry with a crunch. The remaining parts of the panel flickered, and went out. Alarms began to sound once more.

"That'll take them a bit of time to mend," Jamie said. "Now we'd better make ourselves scarce."

Victoria looked out of the door by which they'd entered, and ducked back in. "I can hear people coming," she said. "We can't go that way."

"This way, then," Jamie said, diving through the door on the opposite side.

*

The cargo bay looked just as it had before.

"I don't see why we're down here again," Isobel said. "Emmi can't be here. You don't seriously think she's in that box, do you?"

Gia, bent over one of the plastic shipping crates, shook her head. "No."

"Then why are we—"

The crate gave a soft, despairing hiss, and fell open. Isobel looked at the pile of broken devices and shattered circuits thus revealed.

"Gia, what is all that?" she asked.

"Rubbish," Gia said. "At least, by the standards of this time. As far as I'm concerned, it's sophisticated technology from centuries in the future." She pulled out a mesh bag, which was filled with broken hemispheres. "Now, if only I had the faintest idea what any of this stuff was for."

"Gia, we're wasting time—"

"Your attention," Captain Tseng's voice filled the air. "All those who boarded this ship in Miss Sheffield's company. Proceed at once to the cargo bay where you will be disarmed. Any further attempt to sabotage this vessel or endanger the lives of its crew will be met with deadly force. Message ends."

Isobel grabbed Gia by the arm. "If they want us to go here and be disarmed there'll be people coming to do the disarming. We've got to get out before they come!"

"Just a moment." Gia rummaged in the crate, and pulled out a large box, decorated in bright, child-friendly colours. "'My first photonics kit.'" She opened the box, and peered in. "At least I can recognise what some of these things are. It'll have to do."

She snapped the box closed, picked it up, and hurried after Isobel to the exit.


	7. Like Being Trapped In A Cage

"Laburnum and rhubarb brandy?" Zoë made a face. "Normally, I'd say 'better out than in', but not when it's my outfit you spilled it on. Well, it had just better wash out. And when I'm feeling a bit better I'll deal with you properly."

Samantha folded her arms. "Look, I haven't got time to talk about your stupid skirt now. There's all sorts going on."

"You mean those alarms?"

"Yeah, that was us breaking out after they locked us up."

"Sam, can we start at the beginning? How did you get here?"

"There's this girl called Emmi— look, it'd take too long to tell you it all."

"Emmi Sheffield. Lissa said she'd been kidnapped. Did they scoop you up in the process? That's how I got here."

"That's about it. Just a moment. 'Lissa'? You're on first-name terms with that two-faced heap of—" Samantha caught herself.

"Go on," Zoë said. "Call her what you like. 'Two-faced' describes her quite well, in my opinion. I thought she was my friend and then she drugged me and kidnapped me. And then offered to wipe my memory, as if that would make things better. As if it _ever_ makes _anything_ better."

"Ouch. Well, we're—" Samantha put her finger to her lips. Hurried footsteps were approaching; they stopped outside the door. Samantha, moving as silently as she could, moved to one side of the door and pressed herself flat against the wall. The door opened, and a man walked in — another officer, from his uniform, maybe the one who'd been present when she'd been searched. He didn't notice Samantha, concentrating all his attention on Zoë.

"Who are you?" Zoë asked.

"That's no concern of yours. Why wasn't the door locked?"

"How was I supposed to know if it was or not? I can't even stand up, let alone get anywhere near the door. And if I had got over there and unlocked it, do you really think I'd still be here?"

The man nodded. "A fair point. But don't let me find it unlocked again."

He turned to leave, and found himself face to face with Samantha. For a moment, he froze; then he reached for his blaster. Samantha made a grab for it at the same time. With his left hand, he swept her aside, drawing the weapon with his right. Before he could draw a bead on Samantha, Zoë had launched herself from her improvised bed, grabbing onto his legs and pulling him off balance. Samantha, recovering, grabbed the gun with both hands, and tugged. The weapon fired, luckily hitting only the mattress, which burst with a sharp detonation; then Samantha was holding it, aiming firmly at him.

"Right," she said. "Up against the wall and we'll start again. What's your name and rank?"

"Warren. Chief engineer."

"That's more like it. Now, you took something off us. Little golden things like coins. Where are they?" She gestured with the gun. "Come on."

Warren shook his head. "You're bluffing. You wouldn't shoot me. And if you did, you wouldn't learn anything."

"Can you risk that?" Samantha said.

"I think so. Put the gun down. You're in no position to make demands."

"Sam, did you ever read the Telzey books?" Zoë asked, from her position by Warren's feet.

"Don't think so. Why?"

"Well, when she was in a situation like this, she aimed to miss. But only just. She wouldn't shoot someone deliberately, you see, but she was prepared to set up a situation where she could shoot him by mistake."

"Sneaky." Samantha changed her aim. "Right, you heard her."

"You wouldn't—" Warren began. He was cut off by the flare of plasma as the gun fired, this time leaving a blackened crater in the wall by his ear.

"She would," Zoë said. "Now where have you put our property?"

"In the Captain's quarters," Warren replied sullenly. "There's a locker."

"Take us there," Samantha said. "Now."

"You're wasting your time. It's keyed to the Captain's biodata."

"We'll deal with that when we get there." Samantha looked down at Zoë. "Did you mean all that stuff about not being able to walk?"

"I exaggerated a bit," Zoë said. "I'm still full of whatever Lissa drugged me with and I've got a splitting headache, but I think I can stay upright."

"Well, you'll have to cope, 'cos I've got my hands full with this scally."

Zoë pulled herself upright, using the doorframe for support. "Lead on, then."

*

Jamie tiptoed down the staircase, then turned and beckoned to Victoria. She followed, silently.

"I think we've lost them," he whispered to her.

Victoria looked uncertain. "Maybe. But how long before they find us again? They know we're somewhere on this ship. It's like being trapped in a cage."

"Aye, they're probably gathering their forces." Jamie opened the door at the bottom of the staircase, and cautiously looked out. "I wonder where the others are?"

Overhead, there was a brief burst of shouting and running feet.

"Ah, that'll be—" He was cut off, as Victoria put a hand over his mouth.

"Listen!" she whispered.

They listened. Somewhere, quite nearby, they could hear Emmi's voice.

"No!" she was sobbing. "Let me go!"

"Let me think about that," Lieutenant Malmsten's voice replied. "On reflection: No."

"You're making a big mistake. My father—"

"Will pay our ransom demands. But by the time he gets you back, you won't be quite the same person. Your mind will be more... suited for our purposes. Oh, and you needn't expect any help from your witless fiancé, either. Not after he wakes up in his yacht with his entire wardrobe cut to shreds and a message from you telling him you've found a new lover."

"You didn't... He won't believe it." Emmi sounded as if she was having difficulty convincing herself, let alone anybody else. "He'll think it's one of Geoffrey's practical jokes."

"I doubt it. And even if he does, he won't speak to you until you've completed the treatment. At which point, you'll send him packing yourself."

"I won't!"

"Oh, but you will."

"Get away from me!" A flicker of defiance crept into Emmi's voice. "I'll have you sent to the alkali plants on Sirius Four—"

Jamie nudged Victoria. "Come on. We've got tae get her out of there."

They made their way along the corridor, in the direction the voices were coming from. One door was marked with a red diamond; beside it was an illuminated DO NOT DISTURB indicator. Cautiously, Jamie opened the door. Inside, he caught a brief glimpse of a sparsely-equipped medical bay. Strapped to an operating table in the middle was Emmi, most of her head covered by a silver globe attached to a free-standing machine. Lieutenant Malmsten was bending over this machine; she turned at the sound of the door opening and drew her blaster.

"What—" she began. "You!"

Jamie threw himself to one side as she fired. At the same moment, Victoria screamed; armed men were running down the corridor towards them. Abandoning the situation as hopeless, Jamie and Victoria took flight, retracing their steps back to the staircase.

*

"That's the locker," Warren said. He put his hand on the palm scanner beside it, to no effect. "See? Nothing."

"Oh, yeah?" Samantha aimed her stolen gun at the locker, and fired. There was a flash of light, and a black scorch mark appeared on the door, but the locker remained closed. She hastily changed her aim back to the chief engineer.

"Stand against the wall," she said. "Zoë, tie him up."

"With what?" Zoë asked. She was still pale and unsteady on her feet, but had managed to keep upright so far.

"I dunno. Tear some bits off that dress or something."

"I can't—" Zoë broke off. "Well, I suppose I could. Since it's an emergency."

In less than a minute, her skirt was considerably shorter, and the _Vanguard_ 's chief engineer was securely gagged and bound. Then the two returned to the question of the locker.

"Try it point blank," Zoë suggested.

"Well, OK." Samantha pressed the muzzle of the gun to where the lock appeared to be, averted her eyes, and held the trigger down. There was a flare of light, and a hissing sound. The gun became uncomfortably hot in her hand, but she kept firing until it became painful to hold. The smell of burning metal filled the air, and once more the distant sound of alarms could be heard.

"Ow!" Samantha dropped the gun, and turned to see the results of her handiwork. "Oh."

"I think you might have overdone things," Zoë said.

A ragged hole, its edges still glowing, had been drilled into the front of the locker. And the back of the locker. And — Samantha crouched down to peer through the hole — the wall behind it as well.

"Well, I couldn't look at it while I was shooting, could I?" she protested. "Let's be having you."

She kicked at the door, which fell open.

"Jackpot!" she crowed, scooping up the recall discs and shoving them into such pockets as the Sailor Scout costume provided.

"There's someone coming," Zoë called, from near the door.

"OK. Take these." Samantha dumped a handful of discs into her hands. "Let's go."

They hurried down the corridor, Zoë leaning on Samantha's arm. There were shouts from behind them, and the sounds of running feet.

"Wish I'd kept the gun," Samantha muttered.

*

"They're herding us," Jamie said. "Like sheep."

Victoria leaned against a wall and pressed one hand to her side. "I know."

"Are you all right?"

"Just a stitch, I think." Victoria looked around, trying to get her breathing under control. "Where do you think we are?"

"No idea. Come on, we've got to keep moving."

He took Victoria by the arm, and the two headed onward, their footsteps echoing in the corridor. The next bend they rounded brought them to a junction, with passages leading in all four directions. Jamie listened briefly, then gestured at the route ahead.

"They're coming that way," he whispered. "And from behind us."

"Left or right, then?" Victoria replied.

Jamie shrugged, and dived into the right-hand passage. To Victoria, it looked familiar. Surely this was the corridor that led to the bridge, containing the room where they had been imprisoned. Two figures were staggering towards them. Victoria's heart skipped a beat; then she recognised Samantha and Zoë.

"Zoë!" she called. "You're here!"

"I'd noticed," Zoë said, skidding to a halt in front of her and nearly losing her balance.

"You're going the wrong way," Samantha said. "There's blokes back there with guns."

"They're chasing us, too," Victoria replied. She looked around, her expression desperate. "There's nowhere else to go."

Between them, a door opened, and Isobel stuck her head out. "In here," she said. "Hurry!"

The four in the corridor lost no time in following her advice. The room beyond appeared to be used as a workshop or a storeroom; components were heaped up on racks, and there was a small workbench against one wall. Jamie and Isobel lost no time in dragging one of the racks across the doorway.

Gia was working at the bench, her salvaged My First Photonics kit spread out in front of her.

"Zoë!" she said. "Just the person. Can you remember the standard force field equations?"

"She needs those hangover pills first," Samantha said. "She's not well."

"Here." Jamie tossed her his bottle of Magic Midgets. "How did you get here, Zoë? We thought you'd gone back to the Round!"

"That Malmsten woman kidnapped her," Samantha explained, while Zoë hastily gulped down the pills. "She was locked up like we were."

Someone tried to open the door, and found it blocked.

"Come out of there!" a voice called.

"Go and boil your head," Samantha called back.

"We won't ask you again."

"Well, that's good, 'cos I won't have to tell again you where you can stick it."

There was no answer. But from the sounds of muttered conversation outside, it didn't seem that the crew were going to take that as their final answer.

"How did you all get on?" Isobel asked.

"We know where Emmi is," Victoria volunteered. "She's downstairs, strapped into some kind of machine — I think it does things to your mind. The Lieutenant was guarding her."

Samantha nonchalantly tossed half-a-dozen recall discs onto the table. "And we did get hold of these."

"Where are the rest?"

"Zoë's got 'em. Come on, Zoë, out with them."

Zoë briefly looked up from where she and Gia were tinkering. "Left pocket," she said.

Isobel reached into Zoë's pocket, retrieved the discs, and distributed them in pairs.

"That's something," she said. "It means if they do trap us, we can just vanish away."

"We may have to," Victoria said, pointing at the door. Red, glowing patches had appeared on its surface, and it was beginning to buckle and distort.

"That doesnae look good," Jamie said. "Is there anything we can do to stop them?"

"Fire extinguisher?" Samantha suggested.

"You'd probably just crack the door," Gia said. "Just hang on a moment."

Samantha pointed at the door. The glowing patches had now melted away, leaving the door with several fist-sized holes.

"We haven't got a moment!" she protested.

The business ends of blasters were thrust through several of the holes. Whoever was holding the weapons couldn't have a clear idea of where they were aiming; but in such a small space, and at this range, they didn't really need to.


	8. Under Siege

A shimmering blue curtain of energy sprang into life across the doorway. Almost at the same moment, the blasters fired; their shots dissipated against the force field. Gia and Zoë exchanged relieved glances.

"So that's it?" Victoria asked. "We're safe now?"

"No, we're under siege," Jamie said. "If yon fellows find another way in, or yon force field breaks—"

"It won't last forever," Gia said. "I used an ethanol fuel cell for power. When it runs out of ethanol, that's it."

"How long have we got?"

"Depends if they try to blast it down or just wait us out. Either way, we need to decide what to do now."

"We need to do all sorts of stuff," Samantha said. "Problem is, there's no way we can do any of it on this side of a locked door."

Isobel looked at her recall discs. "Do you think we could use these? I mean, if we used them to get back to the Round, and then had the Doctor send us back to different parts of the ship?"

"We don't know if he would," Victoria said. "He might say there were rules against that sort of thing. You know what he's like."

Jamie nodded. "Aye, I do. But we could send you back, and you could ask him. If he says Yes, he can send you here and you can tell us. And if he says No, you'll be safe at the Round."

Victoria shook her head. "Certainly not. I'm staying here with you."

"So we'll have to find some other way to deal with these Logicians," Zoë said.

Jamie looked up. "The Logicians?"

"That's who Lissa — Lieutenant Malmsten — said she was working for. They're a secret society or something." Zoë had crossed to one of the racks, and was methodically searching through its contents. "They say they've got the finest minds in the Galaxy working for them. Why, have you heard of them?"

"Aye, I've met one of them before. And so's Victoria. Klieg, he called himself. He wasnae so clever as he thought he was."

"Why, what did he do?"

"He thought he could recruit the Cybermen to his cause," Victoria said.

"Really? He must have been mad!"

Victoria shivered at the memory. "That much is quite certain."

"Isn't that a good thing?" Isobel asked. "For us, I mean. If they had a nutter like that working for them, maybe the rest aren't as clever as they think they are."

"Lissa said they'd planned for all possibilities," Zoë said.

"Oh, yeah?" Samantha said. "You think they're ready for kamikazes?"

"What's one of them?" Jamie asked.

"Look, we've got these things, right?" She held up the recall discs. "So we can do things, and not worry how to get out of it afterwards. I mean, they think there's stuff we wouldn't do, 'cos we'd die. But we know there's a way out, so we could do it."

"I see," Zoë said thoughtfully. "They wouldn't be able to predict our behaviour, because they don't know we have that ability."

"Half a mo'," Samantha said. "Gia. That force field thing's working, so how come you're still mucking about over there?"

"Finally someone asks," Gia said. "I'm making a T-Mat base station."

"I thought those were as big as a house and weighed tons."

"If I had access to the technology from my time, yes, but we're centuries in my future." Gia held up a tube, about the length of a pen but thicker, decorated with sunflowers. "This is from a child's toy, and broken at that. I can use it to replace a circuit that would normally be too big to fit in this room."

"So you can beam us to anywhere on this ship?" Jamie asked.

"We shall have to see. I haven't finished it yet. Plus we've only got the one fuel cell, so it'll drain the forcefield every time we use it."

"So we can't go anywhere." Isobel glanced around for something to sit on, found nothing, and reluctantly lowered herself to the floor. "Is there anything we can do while we're here?"

Gia shook her head. "I can't think of anything. Other than not distracting me with unnecessary conversation."

They sat in uneasy silence, listening to the sounds of footsteps coming and going outside, until Gia said "I'm ready to test." She crossed to the far side of the room, drew an X on the floor, then took a small can of grease from one of the racks and placed it in her improvised teleporter. "Can you all stand back from the target, please?"

The group gathered by the workbench. Gia flicked a couple of switches, then pushed a group of three sliders to their full travel. The can winked out of existence; a moment later, a ragged hole was blasted in the floor, some way to one side of the X. There was a brief, hot rain of metal shards and burning grease.

"Oh dear," Isobel said.

"Good job ye didnae try it on one of us," Jamie added.

Zoë crossed to the hole and peered at it. "What happened?"

"Looks like the circuit I used for reintegration containment isn't up to the job." Gia absent-mindedly wiped her hands on her costume. "I don't think that's something I can fix. At least, not with what I've got here."

"At least you've made us another way out," Samantha said. "Didn't someone say Emmi was in a room downstairs?"

"Yes," Victoria said.

"Then let's go." She gingerly touched the edge of the hole, found it cool enough not to burn, and lowered herself through it.

*

Within a minute, everybody — except Gia, who'd reluctantly agreed to stay behind and keep an eye on the force field — had reached the sickbay where Emmi was being held. Cautiously, Jamie pressed his ear to the door.

"So, you're still resisting, are you?" Malmsten's voice was saying. "Let's see how long that—"

Jamie flung the door open, and hurled himself at Malmsten, grabbing her right arm. Samantha secured her left, while Isobel caught her by the legs. Zoë and Victoria hurried across to the operating table and set about freeing Emmi from the machine. Under the dome, sharp electrodes were pressed against her skull, and each one needed to be removed with care.

"Hurry up," Jamie called. "Yon Lieutenant's a frisky one."

"I've got her gun," Samantha said. "Take it, someone."

Victoria took the gun, leaving Zoë to detach the last few connections and help Emmi to her feet.

"What are we to do with the Lieutenant?" she said. "We can't let her go."

"Shoot her," Emmi said. "She's a traitor. That's what she deserves."

Victoria shook her head. "I couldn't do that."

"Then give me the gun and I'll do it!"

"Certainly not."

"I really wish I hadn't lost those handcuffs," Isobel said. "Can't we tie her up with something?"

"Yeah," Samantha said. "Zoë, you know what to do."

"I haven't got enough skirt left!" Zoë protested. She looked around, and noticed Emmi's long white gown. "But Emmi has."

Emmi went pale. "No! This outfit cost thousands. It's a genuine 23rd century antique by Lucas Vallejo..."

"Get a move on!" Jamie shouted.

Victoria handed the gun to Zoë and grasped the hem of Emmi's skirt. "Believe me," she said, "if you come away from this with nothing worse than a ruined dress, you'll be blessing your good fortune."

Before long, Emmi's gown had become a ragged miniskirt and Malmsten was securely bound and gagged.

"We ought to make sure they don't put Emmi in that machine again," Isobel said. "You know, if they happen to recapture her."

Zoë aimed her captured gun, and fired several shots into likely-looking bits of the machine. Its control panels flickered and went out.

"Good enough?" she said.

"It'll do. Come on, let's get out of here."

The party retraced their footsteps, returning to the room below their improvised redoubt. A dim blue glow came from the hole in the ceiling, with the outline of a head silhouetted against it.

"Gia?" Jamie called.

"Here I am," Gia's voice replied.

"We've got Emmi. Can you help her up?"

With assistance from above and below, Emmi was hoisted through the hole into the storeroom. Isobel followed; as Jamie was beginning to lift Victoria, the sound of running footsteps could be heard outside.

"There's someone coming," Samantha called. "We'll try and lead them off. You keep Emmi safe."

Accompanied by Jamie, Zoë and Victoria, she hurried out into the corridor.

*

Gia tweaked the last few circuits into place, and threw a switch. Another force field glowed into life, covering the hole in the floor.

"And now we're locked in again," she said. "Of course, two force fields will last half as long. It's a pity there isn't more alcohol here."

"I suppose what we drank last night isn't any help?" Isobel asked. "You can't extract it from our bodies somehow?"

"Sadly, no. Still, we're making some progress. Emmi's safe — well, she's not being brainwashed any more. 'Safe' might be a bit optimistic."

"No kidding." Isobel tried to push her hair out of her eyes. "Is it just me, or is it getting stuffy in here?"

"It isn't just you," Gia said. "Someone must have shut the air recyclers down."

Emmi shook her head. "That wouldn't make any sense. The crew need air just as much as we do."

"Perhaps they can shut the air off in sections. They could stay in an area with good air and leave us to suffocate."

"That's an outrage!"

"Well, there's nothing we can do about it."

"Isn't there?" Isobel asked. "Couldn't we do the same to them?"

"How?"

"You know that teleporter of yours?"

"The one that doesn't work," Gia said pointedly.

"Yes, that one. Couldn't you beam something into that oxygen room Victoria was talking about?"

"It would explode." Gia looked up, realisation dawning in her eyes. "And take out their entire oxygen supply. That would throw a spanner or two in their works."

"But we need to breathe as well," Emmi said.

"Ah, but only until we get rescued. And there aren't as many of us. Let's see... Isobel, see what you can find by way of ammunition. A canister of nails would be ideal."

*

"There's someone round that corner," Jamie whispered. "Between us and the stairs."

"Then what are we waiting for?" Samantha asked. "We're supposed to be a distraction. Let's do some distracting."

Victoria nudged Zoë. "Please can I have the gun?"

Zoë handed the gun over without demur. Victoria aimed carefully at the furthest visible ceiling light, and fired. The light exploded, raining sparks; as it did so, Victoria pointed her gun around the corner and fired again. As she ducked back, whoever was around the corner returned fire, hitting the far corridor wall.

"Run!" she said.

They ran.

"They're probably sending people round the other way to cut us off," Jamie said, as they rounded another corner.

"This place is a maze," Samantha grumbled. "Why'd they have to put all these passages all over the place?"

"I think it's so they can easily access all parts of the inner hull," Zoë said. "The corridor we're in would go all the way round the ship."

"So all anyone's got to do is stay where they are and we'll run into them coming the other way?"

"Well, yes."

"Marvellous."

Jamie grabbed them both by the shoulders. "There's someone coming!"

"Ahead or behind?" Zoë asked.

They listened.

"I think it's both," Victoria said. "We're surrounded."

Samantha kicked open a nearby door, revealing a dimly-lit chamber full of huge metal cylinders. "Better go to ground for a bit," she said.

"How will that help?"

"It won't help us, but if they're trying to dig us out of here, they aren't going after Emmi, are they?"

She took a step into the chamber. Before she could take another, there was a distant thud, and a terrible splintering noise. High-pitched alarms began to wail; a moment later, choking black smoke began to fill the corridor, seeming to come from everywhere at once.

"What's happening?" Victoria asked.

Zoë had already dived for a panel on the wall, marked with a stylised green icon of a breathing mask. "Oxygen failure!" she said. "Some lunatic's blown up the air recycler."

Samantha hurried after her. The smoke was already catching at her throat. "Hope it's one of our lunatics," she said, choking. "Can't breathe properly."

"Here, have this." Zoë handed her a transparent facemask, attached to the wall by a tube. "Jamie?" She looked around, but the smoke was now thick to the point of impenetrability. "Stay here. I'll find Jamie and Victoria."

She disappeared into the smoke, returning after a worryingly long time with Jamie. Both had streaming eyes and were coughing furiously.

"We can't find Victoria," Zoë managed. She pressed one of the oxygen masks to Jamie's face, snatched another for herself, and took a deep breath. "You can't see anything in this."

Jamie's coughing fit subsided as the oxygen mask took effect.

"That means those Logicians could sneak up on us," he said soberly. "We're sitting ducks here."

"They'll need the masks too, won't they?" Samantha said. "Unless they've got spacesuits or something."

"I daresay someone's breaking out the spacesuits right now," Zoë said.

A chime sounded through the smoke, followed by the captain's voice.

"Oxygen systems fatally degraded. All hands, abandon ship," he said, simply. "Repeat: All hands, abandon ship."

There were distant sounds of hurrying feet — some seeming to head in their direction, some away. The trio crouched down, trying to make themselves inconspicuous. Running footsteps approached, and went past without slackening their speed. As they faded away, other distant sounds could be heard: the clang of hatches, and the brief hiss of thrusters.

"Now what?" Samantha asked.

"We still need to find Victoria—" Jamie began. He broke off. A wind was blowing in their faces, sweeping the dense smoke away. In the corridor ahead, two figures were visible. Victoria was lying prone and motionless by one of the walls, perhaps ten metres away; between her and them, with an oxygen cylinder in one hand and a gun in the other, was Captain Tseng.


	9. Send Her Victorious

Samantha rose to her feet and put her hands in the air. "We surrender."

The Captain shook his head. "It's too late for that. Your actions amount to piracy, and I am empowered to execute pirates."

"Can I say something?" Zoë asked. "'By what star does the wise man set his course?'"

"'The star of truth and the lode of logic,'" the Captain replied, seemingly by rote. "'Who wrote the Premises, the foundations that we follow?'"

Zoë shook her head. "Sorry. I don't know."

"And so your impersonation fails. You're not a Logician."

"Well, I thought it was worth a try."

"Do you have anything else to say?"

"Only this—" Zoë began. Before she could continue, there was a bright flash of light. The blaster in the Captain's hand exploded, throwing him to one side. Jamie pointed past him to where Victoria was lying. She was still there, but her eyes were open and the gun, which had been under her body, was now in her right hand.

Heedless of the Captain, Jamie pulled off his oxygen mask and hurried to her. The wind was still blowing through the corridor, carrying what was left of the smoke before it, but the air seemed to be feeling thinner and colder.

"You'd better get out of here while you can, wack," Samantha said, addressing the Captain. "'Cos we've got a gun and you haven't."

The Captain staggered to his feet, his face, as far as could be glimpsed behind the mask, a study in fury. His right hand was raw and bleeding, and he held it stiffly away from his body. For a moment his eyes held Samantha's; then he turned and limped away, passing Jamie as he half-dragged, half-carried Victoria back to the oxygen station. Both were gasping for breath as if they'd just run a mile.

"The air's leaking away, isn't it?" Samantha asked, helping Jamie to fit a mask over Victoria's face.

Zoë nodded. "Hull breach, or perhaps they did it on purpose. We need to isolate the damaged section. Let's go this way and look for airtight doors we can close. Jamie, are you all right to look after Victoria?"

Jamie, bent over Victoria, nodded briefly.

"Thanks for saving our lives," Samantha added.

"You're welcome," Victoria whispered. "But please don't make me do that again."

*

In their room on the upper level, Gia had managed to locate a portable oxygen cylinder, similar to the one Captain Tseng had used. She, Isobel and Emmi were now passing it among themselves in strict rotation. Emmi had objected to the idea of sharing, calling it 'disgusting', but a few seconds of trying to breathe in smoke had been enough to change her mind.

After the evacuation announcement, they had waited for as long as they dared. Then Gia had switched the forcefields off and waited to see if anybody attempted to force an entrance. When nobody did, she and Isobel pushed the rack aside and opened the door. The corridor beyond appeared to be deserted.

"Now what?" Isobel asked.

"I suppose we should try and get to the bridge. It was this way, wasn't it?"

Emmi nodded. The three set off, making slow progress; just as in the corridor below, the air was thin, hardly breathable, and they continued to pass the cylinder from one to another. The door to the bridge, when they reached it, had a palm scanner to one side of it. Emmi put her hand on this, and the door slid open. It appeared that the evacuation had been complete: the bridge was deserted.

They hurried in, and let the door close behind them.

"That feels better," Isobel said. "I can breathe."

"Yes." Gia glanced at a control panel. "I think the bridge must have its own oxygen reserves. I don't know how long they'll last, though."

"Then we'd better get a move on." Deliberately, Isobel took her place in the captain's chair. "Can you see about getting the engine stopped?"

Gia looked over the panels. "Let's see." She manipulated various switches, to no apparent effect. "No. The controls don't respond."

"Let me try." Emmi hurried over to the same console, and repeated Gia's actions, pressing the buttons harder. "It's locked out. We can't change our direction or speed."

"What about a distress signal?" Isobel asked.

Gia shook her head. "According to this the shuntspace comms relay is out. They must have sabotaged it before they jumped ship." She brought up various schematics on a screen. "Maybe we could do something once the engine's shut down and we're back in normal space. But it looks as if the only way we can do that is in the engine room. You'd need something called an override key."

"Isn't there anything you can do?" Emmi demanded, wringing her hands in frustration.

"We'd better go and look for it." Isobel jumped to her feet, and tried to open the door. "Um. Emmi? This won't open for me. I think it needs your handprint."

Emmi tried to open the door, with an equal lack of success. "It's no good. We're locked in."

"I don't like that." Isobel sat down in the captain's chair again. "I don't like that at all. This feels like a trap."

Gia was methodically working her way down a list of status displays. "They've left us the intercom, at least."

"You know, for someone who doesn't know anything about the technology of this time, you're quite the expert all of a sudden."

"There was a manual in the storeroom. I read it while you lot were running about earlier."

"What, all of it?"

"I'm a quick reader." Gia's hands darted across the control panel. "Hello, everyone. We've got to the bridge, but various systems have been sabotaged. Now, listen carefully. We're looking for something called an override key. It's a grey rod, about twenty centimetres long, with exposed circuitry at one end. When you get it, go to the engine room and put it in the fourth control panel on the right." She checked the screens again. "Another thing: There's one escape pod left. Upper level, starboard side. I think it would be a good idea if someone were to guard it."

She sat back, and looked at the other two.

"That's about all we can do for now," she said.

*

"Are you all right now?" Samantha asked.

"I think so." Victoria stood up. "It feels much better now you've stopped the air leaking."

"We haven't stopped it, only slowed it down," Zoë said. "It's barely breathable now — it won't be long before it isn't at all."

"I'm sure I saw that override key thing in the captain's locker," Samantha said. "Let's go and get it."

"Right," Jamie said. "Victoria, we'd better find yon escape pod thing."

"Good luck."

The two groups made their way slowly to the stairs, pausing at each oxygen station to sustain themselves. At the top, they split up and headed in opposite directions.

"The air seems better up here," Samantha remarked.

Zoë shook her head. "It's still only just within tolerances. They exposed us to partial vacuum as part of our space training, so we'd recognise the signs."

"So we'd better get a move on." Samantha pushed the door of the captain's cabin open. It looked much the same as the last time she'd seen it, except that someone had untied the chief engineer, leaving only the strips of pink fabric he had been bound with. She pushed the locker open.

"We're in luck," she said, flourishing a grey rod that matched Gia's description. "They could have taken this with them."

Zoë crossed to the intercom. "Hello, bridge? We've got the override key. Now what?"

"Go to the engine room," Gia's voice replied. "Downstairs, at the far end of the central corridor. Pop it in the engine."

"What's your air quality like?"

"We've got an independent supply. But I don't know how long it'll last. Judging by the rate it's going down, maybe a couple of hours."

*

"Here's yon pod," Jamie said. "At least, it says so on the door."

"Good." Victoria slid the door open, and aimed her gun inside. The pod was, indeed, empty. "I think we should remain outside." She pointed at a nearby oxygen station. "There."

"Now just a minute. You're a lass."

"Yes, Jamie. I'm well aware of that."

"Well, it's not right. You should be in there, and I should be out here on guard."

"Oh, don't be silly. We need to watch each other's backs. And I'm the one with the gun."

She took up a defensive pose, holding her weapon ready for action.

"This is what comes of letting lassies wear trousers," Jamie grumbled, taking up his post.


	10. Complete and Consistent

The engine room door slid open, with a hiss of escaping air. The chamber beyond was double the height of the other rooms on the ship. Its upper half was almost entirely filled by what had to be the shunt engine, a colossal, gently humming silver shape that looked as if it had been turned on a lathe. A double line of pillars ran down the middle of the room, each pillar a hollow frame filled with cables and ducts. Control panels clustered around the bases of the pillars.

"The fourth panel on the right," Zoë said, hurrying between the pillars. "That one. Sam, have you got the key?"

"Don't move," a familar voice said from behind them. "Turn around slowly."

Zoë and Samantha turned. Lieutenant Malmsten was standing beside the door, a gun in her hand.

"Everyone else ran for it," Samantha said. "What are you still here for?"

"Drop the key and kick it towards me. Then both of you put your hands up."

Samantha let the key fall, and kicked it across the floor. Malmsten aimed her gun carefully, and reduced the intricate device to a blob of molten metal.

"Thank you," she said. "This is what will happen now: Miss Sheffield and I will remain aboard this vessel. The oxygen reserves will keep the two of us alive until we reach our destination. Miss Sheffield will then be conditioned according to plan. Your friends will die when their air runs out, if I don't get them first — and you die here and now." She raised the gun, then lowered it. "I'm very disappointed in you, Zoë. I was wrong to offer you membership in the Guild. You're obviously completely irrational. Fighting against well- ordered government for millions just because it might damage a couple of parasitic aristocrats."

Zoë snorted. "Irrational? I don't think your Guild would know what rationality was if it bit them in the brains. They aren't interested in good government, only in power for themselves."

"So's your spoilt little rich friend. Why should you side with her and not us?"

"Because she hasn't shown any signs of being prepared to do terrible things to people's minds just for getting in their way. I take exception to that."

"So you can't even see past your own foolish prejudices."

"It isn't a prejudice, it's an axiom. Do you even know what one of those is? Or do you just wear a cloak and a hood and chant 'Barbara Celarent' and think that gives you an appreciation of logic?"

"Our axioms were bestowed upon us by the Founders. They are complete and consistent."

"Which means they're either wrong, or so weak you can't even do arithmetic with them!"

Samantha looked from one to the other. "What's this supposed to be?" she said. "Logical Girl anime?"

"Enough!" Malmsten's patience was obviously exhausted. "You may have come close, but you've still lost. Do you have any last words?"

"Only four," Zoë said. She glanced briefly upward at the looming bulk of the shunt engine. "Stellar chain logic crush!"

A column of white light, surrounded by glittering spirals, shot up from her outstretched hands and smashed into the engine. Where it hit the metal casing, it reached a brilliance that was almost painful to look at. Red-hot sparks showered down. The metal bulged and then burst, with a deafening staccato _crack._

The blast knocked Samantha to the ground. Groggily, she looked up, to see Zoë still standing motionless at the foot of that pillar of light. Nearby, Malmsten had been sent flying, and seemed to have hit her head; she wasn't moving. Her gun lay close to her outstretched hand.

As Samantha struggled to her feet, the light faded. Zoë lowered her hands and slumped to the ground, gasping for breath as though she'd just run a race.

"That really takes it out of you," she said.

Samantha looked up at the engine. Where Zoë's attack had hit it, there was a scorched crater on its metal casing, and lesser lightnings were still crawling across its surface. Around the room, warning light after warning light blazed red.

"What in the name of Annie Titheredge's drawers did you just do?" she said. "And how did you do it?"

"Think about it," Zoë said. "I got that sailor costume you've made such a mess of by transforming into Sailor Wheel In Space. And once I'd lent it to you, I had to stay transformed."

Samantha nodded. "'Cos if you changed back, this thing'd vanish and I'd be starkers. Hang on a mo."

She crossed to where Malmsten lay and retrieved her blaster.

"Well, maybe it would just change back into my normal clothes," Zoë said. "But I thought it would be safer not to risk it."

"So you were a Sailor Scout the whole time? And you could've done that stellar chain thing whenever you wanted?"

"Well, yes, but usually when I try it on its own it doesn't work — only when I combine my powers with the other Sailor Scouts. So I didn't want to use it unless I had no choice in the matter."

Green patches were spreading across the surface of the engine now. Radiation alarms wailed, and a massive-looking blast door dropped into place across the exit.

"No, I suppose you didn't." Samantha tucked the blaster under her arm, dug in her pockets and pulled out her recall discs. "That thing's going to blow any minute. We need to get out of here."

Zoë looked across at Malmsten.

"She's still bleeding," she said. "That means she's alive. We can't just leave her here to die."

"I could." Samantha thought about it. "But yeah, we ought to try and save her. So she knows just how badly she's lost."

"How vindictive of you," Zoë said. "Can you help me up, please?"

They crossed to where Malmsten was lying, pulled her to her feet, and supported her between them. Then, with some difficulty, they contrived to get the recall discs into their hands.

"On a count of three," Samantha said. "One. Two. Three."

As instructed, they touched their recall discs, centre to edge. The discs sparked, but there was no other visible effect. By now, the mottled green patches covered most of the engine, darkening as they watched, and an ominous rumbling filled the air.

"Come on, Doctor," Samantha muttered. "Get a move on..."

The shunt engine blew apart. The shockwave of the explosion tore through the room, reducing everything in its path to sharp-edged metal fragments. A wave of devastation rolled towards Samantha and Zoë.

And froze in place, inches from them. The engine room faded away, to be replaced moments later by the familiar setting of the Round. It looked as if minutes, at most, had passed since they left; the Doctor was still standing at the controls of the Time Scoop, Rose and Rory by his side.

"Ah, there you are again," the Doctor said. "I hope it was a good party."

"You could say that, yeah," Samantha replied.

Rory hurried across to the party and made a hasty examination of the unconscious Lieutenant.

"I think it's just concussion," he said, hoisting her onto a table. "I'll get her bandaged up. Who is she?"

"Her name's Lissa Malmsten," Zoë said. "She wanted to kill us. Actually, she probably still does."

"Why'd you bring her back here, then?" Rose asked.

"If we hadn't, she'd have died. And it would have been my fault."

"Fair enough. What do we do with her now?"

"Dump her back in the future," Samantha said. "Wherever it is the Logicians' Guild hang out. Maybe with a dunce hat on her head, and a traffic cone shoved—"

The Doctor raised a warning hand. "Briggs!"

"Well, OK, then. Not the traffic cone. But she's really not a nice person."

Malmsten's eyes opened, and she looked around with utter incomprehension. "What is this place?" she mumbled.

"Don't worry about anything," Rory said. "You'll be fine. The Doctor's going to send you back to your home."

"The Doctor?" Malmsten looked at the bowtie and tweed jacket, and seemed to deflate. "Public Enemy Number One." She looked up at Samantha. "If I'd known you were mixed up with him, I'd have..."

"Surrendered at once to save time," Rose said. "If you've got any sense."

*

The intercom beeped.

"Hello escape pod," Isobel's voice said. "Are you there?"

"We're right here," Jamie replied. "What's going on?"

"The shunt engine's off, so we're back in normal space. Gia says, can you launch the pod? She needs to use it as a relay. Once you've launched, turn on the communicator panel."

"Right away—" Jamie broke off as a shudder ran through the vessel. "What's going on?"

"Explosion in the engine room. I don't know what's happened to Sam and Zoë. Get that pod launched, quick as you can."

"Did you hear that?" Jamie caught Victoria by the arm. "Come on, into the pod now!"

The two dived into the pod and hastily read through the instructions.

"'Seal the door,'" Victoria read. "'Remove the locking pin from the launch button. Ensure all passengers are strapped in. Press the button.'"

She pulled the pin out. Jamie slid the door closed; it latched with a heavy clunk.

"What about this strapped-in thing?" he asked.

"I suppose it means fix those straps around yourself," Victoria said. "Hurry up, because — oh!"

Another vibration ran through the ship, knocking them off their feet. Jamie caught hold of one of the straps; Victoria stumbled into the launch button. A hissing roar filled the pod, and both Jamie and Victoria were pressed against the walls by the acceleration. Fortunately the thrust, painful though it was, soon lessened, leaving them weightless.

"Now we need to turn yon communicator thing on," Jamie said.

Victoria glanced around. "That must be it. Let's see if I can reach it."

She launched herself across the capsule, made a grab for the communicator, missed, and ended up slowly bouncing about, rotating the while.

"Help me, Jamie!" she called.

Jamie, who had managed to fasten a strap around his waist, reached out and caught her by the leg as she drifted past.

"Thank you." Victoria made another lunge for the communicator, this time reaching it. "Here we are. Isobel, can you hear me?"

"It's me," Gia's voice replied. "Press the 'Relay' button, then turn your transmitter to full power." She paused, while Victoria carried out the instructions. "Sending distress signal. Don't go anywhere for now."

"We won't," Victoria assured her.

*

Isobel, Gia and Emmi leaned forward as the communications system crackled into life. Its screen showed only the image of a police badge, with a green padlock superimposed.

" _Vanguard_ , this is police cruiser _Hathaway_. What is your situation? Over."

"Our shunt engine's blown up," Isobel said. "So's the oxygen recycler. The crew took the escape pods and we're trapped on the bridge." She paused, waiting for a reply, and realised she'd forgotten something. "Oh — Over."

"Is Miss Emmi Sheffield still on board? Over."

Emmi leaned forward. "Yes. Yes, I'm here."

"Over," Isobel added.

The police logo disappeared, to be replaced by the image of a conference room. A middle-aged, silver-haired man was standing beside a jumpsuited officer.

"Emmi, what the hell have you been playing at?" he growled. "You're supposed to be on Lorn VII, not fooling about with that pup from GCI and writing my ships off on joyrides. Well, every credit of it's going to come out of your allowance."

"Dad!" Emmi protested. "It wasn't my fault! The Logicians kidnapped me!"

"I don't want to hear your excuses. When I get my hands on you you're going straight to the shop floor. Cleaning out waste recyclers on Ceti Colony. You can work your way up from the bottom of the business or not at all. And what the hell have you done to your hair?"

Isobel tried, unsuccessfully, to smother a giggle. Emmi's father seemed to notice her and Gia for the first time.

"I wouldn't laugh if I were you," he snarled. "I'll make sure they throw the book at the pair of you, whoever you are. Leading my daughter astray. Just wait till I get my hands on you."

"Can't wait," Isobel replied.

The police officer glanced at a screen in front of him. " _Vanguard_ , we are now locking on. Stand by for boarding."

There was a distant clang, and the bridge shuddered.

"Righty-ho," Isobel said cheerfully. " _Vanguard_ out."

"Victoria, did you hear all that?" Gia added.

"I did," Victoria's voice replied.

"Thank you for your help. You and Jamie can go back to the Round now — there's nothing more to do here."

She shut the link down. Isobel, still in the captain's chair, leaned back.

"There you are," she said. "You're safe, Emmi. The police will take you back home. And I think we'd better be making tracks. Have you got those gold things?"

"Here," Gia said, producing her recall discs.

Isobel laughed. "You kept them **there**?"

"No pockets in this costume."

"No, I can see that." Isobel got to her feet, and extracted her own recall discs from the pouch on her belt. "Well, goodbye, Emmi. It's been a lot of fun."

"But you can't— I need you to back up my story." Emmi drew herself up. "I demand that you stay!"

"What, and get the book thrown at us? Sorry. Places to go, people to see, you know how it is."

Gia patted her on the shoulder. "And we wish you the best of luck in your new career."

"Oh, go to hell!" Emmi shouted, looking for a moment just like her father.

"I don't think so," Gia said, and tapped her recall discs together.

"Too warm at this time of year," Isobel added, following suit.

Emmi's outraged visage faded from their sight.

*

The escape pod drifted through space, already far enough away from the _Vanguard_ that, if the pod had had portholes, the ship would not have been visible to the naked eye.

"Well, that's that," Victoria said. She switched the communicator off. "I don't think I care for Miss Sheffield's father."

"Are you ready to go back now?"

"I find it quite enjoyable out here." Victoria tried to move towards him, but once more ended up flailing helplessly in midair. "Could you help me again, please?"

Jamie caught her by the leg, and pulled her to the floor — or wall, or ceiling — he was anchored to.

"You like it, then?" he said.

"Well, not all the bouncing about. That makes me feel ill. But when we're together like this, it's relaxing. So quiet and tranquil." She leaned over him and brushed a speck of dust off his tuxedo. "And considering who you're dressed as, strangely appropriate."

"Oh, aye. I suppose you mean when James Bond's just blown up the enemy's base, and he's escaped in a boat wi' only a beautiful lass for company?"

"Exactly."

"You are very beautiful. Victoria... can I ask you something?"

"Of course you may."

Jamie ran his finger down the remains of the Trill makeup on her neck. "Do those spots go all the way down?"

Laughing, Victoria floated into his arms. "Oh, **James**..."


	11. Epilogue

"Come on, slowcoaches!" Victoria called over her shoulder as she reached the summit of the hill. "Or by the time you get here Jamie will have eaten all the food."

"Now just a minute..." Jamie began.

Victoria giggled. "You know perfectly well I was joking." She looked around and sighed with contentment. "Isn't it marvellous up here?"

"Not a patch on Scotland," Jamie said automatically.

"Well, you'll just have to put up with the lack of midges and sideways rain... Hello, Gia. What kept you?"

"I'm not as young as you two," Gia said unconvincingly.

"Really! To hear you anyone would think you were a little old lady who had to walk with a stick."

"She is walking with a stick," Jamie pointed out, nodding at Gia's hiking stave. "But I don't think that's the problem. Too much playing with wires and things and not enough exercise, I'd say."

"Guilty as charged." Gia took off her rucksack and lay down on the grass. "The others shouldn't be long."

Sure enough, in a few moments, Zoë, Samantha and Isobel appeared.

"What kept you?" Jamie asked.

"We're city girls," Isobel said. She sat down and mopped her forehead. "All this fresh air isn't good for us."

"What she said," Samantha added.

"I think it's too much of yon chocolate fountain," Jamie said. "It's good you're not starving yourselves, but..." He looked her up and down. "Maybe you've been overdoing things a wee bit."

"Jamie!" Victoria protested. "It's extremely impolite to say something like that to a lady." She looked at Samantha, seemingly measuring her up against her idea of a 'lady'. "Or any other person, for that matter."

"All right, all right." Jamie ostentatiously turned his back on Victoria and put his arm round Zoë's shoulders. "So, how d'ye like the countryside?"

"It could be much better organised," Zoë said. "Those paths wind around all the time. And someone should do something about all those puddles."

"Puddles are fun," Victoria protested. "When I was a little girl I used to love splashing about in them."

Zoë grimaced. "I suppose you also liked getting scratched by brambles and stung by nettles? Well, I don't."

"Well, aren't you the wee ray of sunshine?" Jamie squeezed Zoë's shoulder affectionately in a manner that would have earned anyone else an Osoto Gari Leg Throw, and looked around the gathering. "Are we getting anything to eat today, or not?"

"Greedy gannet," Isobel said.

"Maybe we shouldn't let him have anything," said Gia. "Serve him right."

"That sounds like a plan," Zoë added. "Have you got that, Victoria? Don't give him anything until he behaves better."

"That didn't work last time," Victoria said.

"Well, perhaps we weren't strict enough."

"Now look here..." Jamie began.

"Oh, are we being mean to the poor little piper boy?" Samantha took Jamie by the arm and sat him down. "Don't worry, Auntie Sam will keep you safe from those nasty girls. Now you just sit here and be a good boy."

Victoria choked back her laughter.

"Here you are, Auntie Sam," she said, handing out sandwiches. "These ones for you, and these ones for Jamie, if he behaves nicely. Isobel, here are yours— can you pass these ones to Zoë? Gia, you'd better come over here where I can reach you."

"Cucumber sandwiches," Gia said, looking in the bag she'd received. "Why am I not surprised?"

"And what, pray, is wrong with cucumber sandwiches?"

"Oh, nothing. It's just they're exactly what I'd expect you to make."

Victoria put her nose in the air. "If you want spam fritters you know where to get them."

"What's this?" Zoë asked, holding up a square of chocolate biscuit cake.

"Home-made tiffin."

"Really?" Zoë looked at the cake from all angles. "I didn't get the impression that tiffin was anything like that."

Isobel gave an exaggerated sigh. "What did I tell you last time?"

"You said that 'Carry On Up the Khyber' is a work of fiction and I should treat nothing in it as historically accurate."

"That's all you know," Jamie said darkly.

Isobel decided to change the subject. "Does anyone fancy tomato soup?" she asked. "I've got a Thermos." She delved in her backpack, pulled out a flask and some plastic cups, and filled one. "Don't worry, I didn't make it myself — it's tinned. What about you, Gia?"

"Yes, please," Gia said.

"Here you go, then. Anyone else?"

"Me," Samantha said.

"Right you are."

"Are you sure that's wise?" Zoë asked. "Sam can't be trusted with liquids. She spills them."

"Oh, turn the record over," Samantha said. "OK, I spilt one little drink on your sailor thing. It washed out all right, so what's the problem?"

"It just so happened that Dark General Secite and his Quirky Miniboss Squad chose to invade our cosmos on the day my outfit was in the wash," Zoë said. "I ended up having to fight the forces of evil in a grubby raincoat. I'm sure it was me that Quirky Miniboss Caanite was laughing at."

In answer, she received only snorts and giggles.

"Oh, you're all just as bad," she said, and started on her sandwiches.

"I've got a question," Victoria said. "I'm not sure who's the right person to answer it, but: why did Isobel keep making those remarks about Gia and Jamie?"

There was a prolonged, uneasy silence.

"I made a pass at him," Gia said. "At the party. That's what Isobel saw."

"Oh," Victoria said quietly.

"I don't regret it. Sorry if that upsets you, but I don't."

"Well." Victoria sipped at her drink. "If it does upset me, that isn't your fault. You deserve some fun now and again, just like the rest of us. I suppose it's only to be expected."

"You didn't ask her if Jamie said yes or no," Samantha pointed out.

"That's none of my business."

"And you're not bothered at all?"

"If I was in the habit of getting bothered whenever Jamie flirted with other women, I'd be after you with the frying pan every day of the week."

"Yeah, I suppose so. 'Cos it's no secret I'd snog him senseless, first chance I got."

"Assuming you didn't bump into a good-looking standard lamp first," Isobel said. "But, Victoria, what would you do if things actually did get serious with Jamie and one of us? What if he had to choose between you and Sam?"

"Jamie's Choice," Gia said. "There's an idea."

Victoria paused, apparently considering Isobel's question. "I believe the proper etiquette these days is to suggest a threesome," she said, in her usual prim tones.

Samantha, who'd been unlucky enough to have a mouthful of soup at the time, spluttered and nearly choked. The cup fell from her hand.

"You **what**?" she said, in a small voice.

"That's a 'no', then?"

The two looked at each other for a few seconds, until Victoria's carefully composed air of polite boredom dissolved into giggles.

"If only you could have seen your face," she laughed.

"You evil woman." Samantha joined in the laughter. "You really had me going there." She glanced over at Jamie. "Hey, are you all right?"

Jamie was holding a handkerchief to his face. "Nosebleed," he said simply.

"Then you shouldn't be thinking such impure thoughts," Victoria said, still struggling to keep a straight face. "Sam, don't tell me you've got a nosebleed too?"

"Not a chance," Samantha said. "That's tomato soup." She dabbed at herself with her own handkerchief, to little avail. "Gone all down my jacket, too. I bet you waited till my mouth was full on purpose."

"There you are," Zoë said. "I told you giving her soup wasn't a good idea."

"As a moral to our recent adventure, I think that's somewhat deficient," Victoria said. She lay back in the grass, and looked up at the sky. "What else have we learned?"

"How about: Don't try to develop your emotional side. You'll wake up the next morning in a strange bed and a lot of trouble."

"Sounds about right," Samantha said. "Or what about 'If blowing things up doesn't solve your problem, blow some more things up'?"

"'The best laid plans of mice and men cannae stand up to a bunch of lassies in silly outfits,'" Jamie suggested.

"'Silly outfits'?" Isobel repeated. "That's it. Sandwich-confiscating time."

"Too late." Jamie grinned at her. "I've eaten mine already."

"I thought you were unusually quiet. Well, I'll find some other way to get you. No-one calls my outfit silly and gets away with it. There's a moral for you. Anything to add to that, Gia?"

"Sorry, I can't come up with nonsense like the rest of you," Gia said. "At least, not when I'm sober."

Victoria laughed. "I'll put you down for 'in vino veritas', then."

"And what about you?" Jamie asked. "You like stories with morals. What's your moral for this one?"

"You know what I think about adventures. But I suppose they do give one a greater appreciation of life. I'm enjoying today all the more, because of knowing what we went through together."

"You're weird," Samantha said. "Not that I'd want you any different."

"I'll drink to that," Gia said. She solemnly raised her cup of tomato soup. "Here's to adventure."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   
> 
>   * "Doctor Who" characters belong to the BBC.  
> 
>   * This Time Round was created by Tyler Dion.  
> 
>   * "Sailor Who" is the invention of B. K. Willis.  
> 
> 



End file.
